This scorching heat is unbearable. I can’t sleep and I can’t speak. The only things I can say are “yes”, “no” or “yes, of course”, “not at all”… Ah! And “okay”… okay…

annoying fly
there’s no reason
to write a haiku

Andrea Cecon

It swoops down and then again soars. It nearly touches the clouds. She remains seated in her wheelchair just observing the eagle.

war moon
taking the broken road
back home

Mona Bedi

With a pencil and an X we avoid treasure islands, slip out of a bureaucrat’s non-essential attire, and skid out of a booth.

new boundaries
the elephant in the room
is farting

Alan Summers

The train connections decide to switch things up. A man of indeterminate age removes his seat, declares undying love in the most common travelling language. Luggage bunches up.

Euston Station—
a sandwich filling
minds the gap

Alan Summers

There is no middle path for a middle class. Either you choose the left or the right.

a political storm brewing in the corner tea shop

R. Suresh Babu

To deal with an entity that had persecuted them as children.

licorice caramels
and caoutchouc scattered
everywhere

Barbara Anna Gaiardoni

Hear that? It is time running out. From lily pad to lily pad it side-skips the reflections on life lived in darkness.

just words blindly sifting silences through an hourglass

Stephen Bailey

Shelling a nuclear plant is never a good idea.

Zaporizhzhia—
now you see us
now you don’t

Stella Pierides

My twin brother was absorbed into my all female left eyeball in the womb, leaving me with a lazy eye and urges to look up little girl’s skirts, unsuccessfully.

handicapped button
the three blind mice
write their memoirs

Pris Campbell

AKA a souped-up spaghetti hoop.

dog moon
the last bus
gone

Helen Buckingham