Issue 6 – September 2026 – Tanka Prose 6
Detritus
We sweep away a last autumn storm—twisted palm fronds, rocky silt, mahogany branches thin as a baby’s fingers. Even a house gecko’s bone. Across the street, the neighbor’s son fixes a wreath to her door, its parched needles leaving a trail along her dusty walkway.
dry season
the trees
and I
both
barren
Colleen M. Farrelly, USA
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