when he sees the wreckage splattered across the tiles the furrows in his forehead deepen long crevasses in the earth too dark to grow flowers where small creatures scurry inside to hide. his thumb presses the blue-green veins of her wrist bathing the hurt in silence beneath the water nothing matters only the hazy argent moon as pain ebbs with the tide. the sink’s cavernous slimy eye watches them both.
aloe vera plant
Based in the UK, Farah Ali writes fiction and poetry with a particular love for the short form. Nominated for the Touchstone Awards, she won First Place in the UHTS Fleeting Words Tanka Contest 2023. Her work has been published, and is forthcoming, in a variety of reputable online and print journals including contemporary haibun online, Drifting Sands Haibun, Akitsu Quarterly, Plum Tree Tavern, Right Hand Pointing, Modern Haiku, whiptail, Wales Haiku Journal, hedgerow, cattails, Cicada’s Cry, and Autumn Moon Haiku Journal.
Her supernatural Deerleap Hollow Series is available from Amazon, and she can be found on Twitter: [at] farahauthor