. . . and now this door and a high temperature. the door half-open, the temperature on its way. the door was almost shut yesterday and the temperature was mild. what's going on in the adjacent room and in the blood? Could they have some connection? Must they have it? I may have some unwanted guest in my body. How did it come in? well, let see until tomorrow. the ambulance is closed on sunday. let's think about the door. when she is mildly angry, the door is just slightly moved to the left from its central point. when she gets really angry, the door signifies 40% from its slightly moved central line. when she is mortally angry, the door is shut. across the door is the bathroom, so whenever I go in there, I bend my head a bit so as to have a better view of the room. she usually lies on the bed and I guess  plays computer games. in her age she ought to have her own family and a  baby. this is no family, she once told me. well, more than once. guests rarely enter this vast space inhabited by shadows. my body is full of them. even the back, the front door, the gardens, the roof... the blood of my blood. tomorrow, oh maybe tomorrow....

leaving you
in this unfinished world
taking my shadow
with me on the way to where
the door stays open wide

fallen magnolia petals
the little girl makes
a new flower

A Vast Sky: An Anthology of Contemporary World Haiku (edited by Bruce Ross and others), Tancho Press 2015

spring evening;
down the same road
to sate my
unrest, a light mist . . . 
a ray of the past

Dragan J. Ristić is a teacher of the German language in native Niš (Nish), Serbia. He is a literature translator and writes short stories, aphorisms, poetry and haiku poetry. His haiku have appeared in many international haiku magazines and anthologies in 13 languages. He is the recipient of multiple awards, and is Editor in Chief of the international haiku magazine “Haiku novine” (“Haiku Newspapers”).