wpadmin – Page 78 – Iron Haiku

the knife in my back
carved the windows in the walls
I’d built for myself
–
creeping ivy-
ruins of stone
foundations

verdant fields of grass
freshly cut into windrows
drying in the sun
–
migrant bees-
tend the
grape arbor

awake in my bed-
dawn eases through my window
gilding all I see
–
a web of stars-
blackbird songs
invades my dreams

the lobsterman’s wife
watching the lighthouse at the
dying of the day
–
silent passage-
darkening water
laps the shore

underneath my bed
photos of my childhood
slowly fading lies
–
an old cigar box-
sacred relics
of my youth

pockets of moonlight
across the rippled surface
of a mountain lake
–
midnight water-
still dragonflies
dimple the surface

home with my regrets
I should have asked for a kiss
when I had the chance
–
your upturned lips-
moths flutter
in the porch light

alone on the road
speeding towards oblivion
far away from you
–
velvet panic-
our safe word
forgotten

his paper thin skin
stretched across arthritic hands
so easily bruised
–
a spreading elm-
our initials
overgrown

a shattered windshield-
shards of broken promises
spread across the road
–
text messages-
driving past what
used to be a car