in the small hours
in her shape in the bed
only a ghost fits
This poem was written in response to Carpe Diem #886 the journey continues: writing something, the moon clear, harvest moon, loneliness, another great prompt from Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. All of the poems in the link-up can be read here.
And, to finish, here’s Japan –
a swift dips
low to the rippling canal
by a navvy’s ghost
This poem was written in response to Carpe Diem Perpetuum Mobile #2 rainbows sparkle (or movement in haiku), another great prompt from Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. All of the poems in the link-up can be read here. And, to finish, here’s the Specials –
Worst job I ever had?
That’d be when I was a rent collector in Detroit. Also the last job I ever had, come to think of it. I quit pretty quick.
Nah, quit ain’t the right word. My employer explained it better: “Our rent collector was shot at point-blank range through the chest whilst out collecting rent late one night and, whilst he lay there dying, the rent money he was carrying was stolen.”
Figures. Like I said, worst job I ever had.
After that, I took possession. Seemed fair. ‘Sides, who should own all your old ghost towns if not ghosts.
This piece of flash fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers: a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Here’s the link to the stories and this week’s picture is below, copyright Björn Rudberg.