To Hell ‘n Back
It’s a herniated disk, you see. Nope, I didn’t do a thing. It just happened. Sitting on a chair, eating dinner. Then pop. And I can’t sleep. I’m trying not to move. Every twitch, stabs. And I notice that the street light licks the bedroom wall a silent grey, a smeared colour like my mother’s ashes. Beside me, my husband sleeps. Noises rise from his throat soft as a baby’s hand, sounds fluting through his nose, a coo-cooing tune, like a wood pigeon. I find myself breathing in time to his rhythm. And I try not to move. I’m looking for sleep.
Maybe custard creams
…. fifty-two …. fifty-three sheep
and a cup tea
A haibun for Linda Hill’s JusJoJan Day 20 “Looking” Extract image “Susan” by Jacek Yerka Original Title: Sen nocy letniej, 1984. Inspired by Twiglet #262 “Soft Hands”. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter