<p class="epil"><i>Haibun</i></p>
<div class="body-text">The blued barrels of the shotguns stuck out over the hood of the station wagon, pointing away from the men who were smoking, the smoke rising in the breeze, drifting into the corn field. The corn stalks rustled in the breeze. Two pheasants lay on the roof of the station wagon. The dogs were somewhere out in the corn, looking for the other downed birds. The men shared a bottle in a brown paper bag and waited for the dogs.</div>
<div class="line3">jokes about women</div>
<div class="line3">the scent of whisky</div>
<div class="line3">on every word</div>


This Again

Diet Coke

Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms

<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">my tumor</div>
<div class="line">the size of no fruit</div>
<div class="line">the doctor can think of</div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">last night of the carnival</div>
<div class="line">she takes a selfie</div>
<div class="line">in the house of mirrors</div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">what it lands on the sound of rain</div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">grounds</div>
<div class="line">in the bottom of the cup</div>
<div class="line">last night’s dream</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/MuirheadHaiku2.mp3"></audio></figure>

July 1993

I Confess

Four More Haiku

<div class="line">I fired my secretary today. It felt like murder,</div>
<div class="line">although I’ve never murdered anybody.</div>
<div class="line">I’ve never fired anybody either and</div>
<div class="line">it wasn’t easy. I’ve tried before.</div>
<div class="line">It was always the right day</div>
<div class="line">early in the morning,</div>
<div class="line">my list of grievances sufficient,</div>
<div class="line">but by coffee break she seemed quite convivial,</div>
<div class="line">her faults, perhaps, imagined, and she was</div>
<div class="line">reprieved—day after day after day,</div>
<div class="line">despite her poor grammar and procrastination,</div>
<div class="line">her petty gossiping and unnecessary overtime,</div>
<div class="line">the unauthorized purchases and internet surfing.</div>
<div class="line">These I would enumerate, lying in bed,</div>
<div class="line">waking from dreams of murder or assault,</div>
<div class="line">too much water, not enough air, breathless,</div>
<div class="line">covered in sweat. I rationalized her shortcomings</div>
<div class="line">as my own—not enough clarity or direction,</div>
<div class="line">a failure of discipline or training.</div>
<div class="line">But by the light of day the faults were hers again—</div>
<div class="line">all the things she didn’t do as I requested,</div>
<div class="line">all the things she did that were a waste of time</div>
<div class="line">or insufficient or quite plainly—prohibited.</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">I fired my secretary today. By three o’clock</div>
<div class="line">I had cased the house, considered witnesses,</div>
<div class="line">checked the locks, confirmed the escape route,</div>
<div class="line">still queasy and unsure, but determined to be a man,</div>
<div class="line">do the right thing, fire her ass—then knew I wasn’t</div>
<div class="line">that kind of man. <em>Kindness</em> was what was needed</div>
<div class="line">and I was calmed by the patience I had exercised,</div>
<div class="line">by my own suffering on her behalf. The clock</div>
<div class="line">ticked on, the gun was loaded, I wavered, thought</div>
<div class="line">myself both justified and cruel, considered a hit man—</div>
<div class="line">a carefully crafted note which I could hand her as</div>
<div class="line">I made my escape, a cowardly dog. In the final</div>
<div class="line">minutes, she chatted away on the telephone,</div>
<div class="line">cheerfully unaware of the grizzly bear outside</div>
<div class="line">her tent, Raskolnikov at the door. Then, she</div>
<div class="line">put away her things—pens, memo pad, paper clips.</div>
<div class="line">She switched off her computer, turned,</div>
<div class="line">and looked at me. I fired. Her mouth dropped</div>
<div class="line">open. The room filled with the stench of gunpowder.</div>
<div class="line">I turned and raced for the door, forgetting</div>
<div class="line">my hat and coat, hoping it wasn’t raining,</div>
<div class="line">trusting that the getaway car was out there,</div>
<div class="line">that I had the keys.</div><figure class="wp-block-audio"><audio controls src="https://admin.rattle.com/audio/MuirheadFiring.mp3"></audio></figure>

Prayer

To Thousand Island

The Firing

<div class="line">third day hosting in-laws</div>
<div class="line">I remind them</div>
<div class="line">about the poison ivy</div>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<div class="line">caterpillar’s odyssey</div>
<div class="line">same fate</div>
<div class="line">any direction</div>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<div class="line">after sex</div>
<div class="line">the blow-up doll and I</div>
<div class="line">share an e-cigarette</div>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<div class="line">wood tick</div>
<div class="line">in the middle of my back</div>
<div class="line">no wife</div>


Three Haiku and a Tanka

Willows on the Crow

Four Haiku

<div class="body-text">The willows whipped us along the banks of the Crow River, the wind-driven lashings hustling us along on our cobbled raft between mucky dunes, over carp shadows, boulders whose slimy beards danced in waters stenched by the adhesive plant miles upriver. She and I were Tarzan and Jane, pirate and captive, boss and slave, poling deeper into the jungle, discussing her fate—flogging, short rations, thrown overboard. Later, we drifted in the sun on our backs.</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line3">the scent</div>
<div class="line3">of her wet swimsuit</div>
<div class="line3">after we took it off</div>


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June 10, 2015Four HaikuMarsh Muirhead

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June 10, 2015Four HaikuMarsh Muirhead

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