By Colleen M. Farrelly
I tie off the jib and skip my Lightning through ten-foot surf spilling white noise like my dorm stereo. Rolling clouds hug the horizon; a lone leatherback turtle slowly paddles to shore. I pitch and yaw until the keel cracks, oblivious to tests and tournaments and the tussle awaiting me when my folks find the dent in their car.
One more week until I finish finals. One more week until I’m loosed from our lab. One more week until graduation.
even keel
a whitecap sinks
my lab keys
Colleen M. Farrelly is a topologist and haibun poet based in Maimi, FL. She’s a 2025-2026 confluence fellow and a 2026 guest editor at Contemporary Haibun Online. Her first full collection, The Haibun Laboratory, is forthcoming with Cuttlefish Poetry Series.
MoonPark Review 