. The Little Knight The kitchen door slams open wide; The boy flies through to play outside. His house becomes his castle’s walls; The distant car horns, clarion calls. A stick becomes a mighty sword; The bushes, an invading horde. He charges with his battle cry, Defending home, sword brandished high. He fights assailants one by one; Beneath the houses sinks the sun. The sky near dark, marauders downed, And bush leaves all around the ground, The vanquished men laid by the tree Go back to being shrubbery. He drops his stick, runs in the door; The castle is his house once more. Play trains him up for when he’s grown, Defending family of his own. . . The Decaying House an alexandroid They’re gone from home without a trace; __Where did they go? And why the family left the place, __I’ll never know. Their 1950s furniture __Is tossed about. The walls are worn away; I’m sure __The floor gives out. That rotting house in hills somewhere __A truth displays: Without the family living there, __The house decays. . . Star-Filled, Full-Moon Night Star-filled, full-moon night Frogs and crickets make music For one little girl First published in Asahi Haikuist Network . . Normal A man pontificated with great show: “It doesn’t matter if a man likes men Or women, or all genders. Once again: It’s all about what makes your motor go.” I said, “I’m glad, because I wish to wed A woman who will love and fear the Lord, And we’ll raise many children in accord With everything the Catholic Church has said.” He stared at me, then said, all stiff and formal: “A dream like that, young man, just isn’t normal!” . . Joshua C. Frank works in the field of statistics and lives near Austin, Texas. His poetry has also been published in the Asahi Haikuist Network.