I always thought Kali would return as a dolphin. She loved swimming the butterfly stroke in our lap pool. We shared dreams of joining a pod when we saw them as we motored out to a tucked-away ocean cove. One day—afterward—anchored and alone, I realized that, in a way, she never left. There’s a walk-in safe in our house, its skin mottled from coastal living, the doors like welcoming arms. Lately, we’ve been spending every day together—sharing, not holding back. In a stack of her poems tucked away in the back of the safe, I’m learning what I didn’t know about myself, and so much more about her. There’s so much to say. I write in the margins.

Richard L. Matta

grew up in New York’s rustic Hudson Valley, attended Notre Dame, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego with his golden-doodle dog. Some of his work is found in Dewdrop, Gyroscope, Healing Muse, New Verse News, San Pedro River Review, and many journals of haiku, haibun, and tanka.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Uncle Eddie’s Falcon, a haibun by Richard L. Matta which was nominated by MacQ for the Red Moon Anthologies 2023, and selected for publication in Contemporary Haibun 19

⚡ Heating Up, split sequence by Matta in MacQueen’s Quinterly (Issue 16, January 2023)

⚡ Shucking Shells, haibun by Matta (November 2022 contest winner) in “Poetry Letter No. 2, 2023: Part 1 (Poems: Monthly Contest Winners)” sponsored by California State Poetry Society

⚡ Fireside Tequila Chat in Big City Lit (Summer 2022)