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A Christmas haibun

We’re in our bedroom. I’m standing behind them, arms around their waist. I ask whether there’s anything we could do to fix things, to be together. They smile sadly but don’t answer. That’s when I awake, my brain saving me from another crushing reply. Christmas slips the knife back in. I know it takes time, but hasn’t there been enough? I’m ready for the part where it hurts less. Mostly I just want them back so damn much and I want to stop wanting that.

the kettle is on
in someone else’s house
Christmas

Published in Family My poems Poetry

2 Comments

  1. “I’m ready for the part where it hurts less.” Me too, man. Hang in there.

    • Jason Crane Jason Crane

      Thanks, brother. You too.

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