are what she calls them. Some say wasp, some Polistes carolina. She used to be so phobic she’d ruin a good time; run. Not now. She’s boss. She’s steel. She taunts “Bring it!” as one tries to fly around her face in the brisk autumn breeze; challenges it to a match, bounces around on the balls of her feet punching like she’s ready to win a belt.

And that skunk that keeps crossing her path each sunrise better watch it; if she gets sprayed, she’s taking it to the mat, splaying it wide open, choking it out. She ain’t scared of anything ever since that time in the hospital when the staff thought she might actually die, and she wasn’t even the patient.

earsplitting quiet 
warp of her heart ...
pull on her hair 

E. L. Blizzard

writes in the U.S. South. Her prose and poetry are informed by her years of advocating for the rights of immigrants/refugees, survivors of intimate-partner violence, and those experiencing homelessness. Her work has been published in U.S. and international journals, including Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, Drifting Sands Haibun, #FemkuMag, The Other Bunny, Poetry Pea, Under the Bashō, and Wales Haiku Journal, among others. Some of her words have been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and anthologized. She is particularly obsessed with haibun and is currently working on a collection.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Haiga Showcase: E.L. Blizzard with commentary by Ron C. Moss in contemporary haibun online (Volume 17.2, August 2021)