Sick of writing prose

and you, sick of reading it,

shall we now haiku?

___

don’t count the syllables

some of these rebel —

more like Kerouac than Basho.

___

too hot to think.

summer time, and the living is

sticky.

___

new freckles on my arm,

an everyday constellation

thank you, Sun.

___

legs float freely when

I’m in a dress,

skirting around you

___

licking away at popsicles

looking for childhood

joke’s not funny anymore

___

if I wedge an orange peel

into your smile-

will you be happy like this forever?

___

wrap around me like a porch

I will rest upon your limbs

and drink lemonade.

___

summer dreams drift in

through open windows.

Hot.

___

here is my yearbook:

I hope you can write more than

“Have a good summer.”

___

even when time slows down,

it’s still going too fast

slipping through my fingers, crushed silk.

___

packing my room in boxes.

will you fit between

the pencils and the poetry books?

___

Dear Reader:

Sorry for being so short—

figuratively, that is.

___

Natalie Jabbar/would like to thank all of you/for reading her work. If you’d like to send your views or haikus, email her at njabbar "at" stanford.edu.