Poetry / December 2016 (Issue 34)

Six War Haikus

by Monica Macansantos


Field, planted with wheat—
Beneath the arid stillness,
A fresh, unmarked grave.


Darkening plaza—
The sound of distant gunfire,
And of rustling leaves.


In a rose garden,
The widow waits. In her lap,
A gun, a flower.


In a barren wood,
The maiden hangs, like a fruit,
From a guava tree.


In a torch-lit cave,
The plucking of guitar strings.
The stamping of feet.


Moonlight reflected
On a concrete prison floor:
Silence, and a scream.

 Monica Macansantos was born and raised in the Philippines, and earned her MFA in Fiction and Poetry from the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas. Her creative non-fiction was recently recognised as Notable in The Best American Essays 2016, edited by Jonathan Franzen, and her fiction recently made the Top 25 in Glimmer Train's Fiction Open. Her work has appeared in Day One, The Masters Review, Thin Noon, Longform Fiction, and TAYO, among other places, and her work has been recognised with residencies from Hedgebrook and the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts. She is currently a PhD candidate in Creative Writing at Victoria University in Wellington, New Zealand. Visit her website for more information.
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