February Haiku


Murder under snow
Fire red fur like Havana
There’s beauty in death

Kate Morris






Frozen blossom


No red flowers this year.
Pale, soft pink blossom – just a small branch,
Arrived at my doorstep in February, seven days too late.
Sharp origami frost caught shards of winter sunlight
On hardened, frail petals. Fragile, like love in winter. Sweet.

Tom Warman

Blood Oranges


Tonight
We all took a bite
And recoiled at what lay within:
The unexpected sin,
Of blood-flecked specks on spotless skin.

Last night
We all washed our hands
To rid of the acidic mess
The acrid stench,
Of a womanly entrapping
Constantly questioning:
Spilt drinks and slapping?

That night
Made the sweet, sour
Dragged out the happy house happy hour
Into a confused game of threes
You, her, me…
All too deceptively easy

Taking huge chunks out of proceedings,
Tasting blood oranges as they truly are,
Seeing things for the first time
Feeling pretty, dizzy.

Elspeth Vischer