Above – Page 23 – Iron Haiku

in the driving rain-
train doors close as a blue suit
runs past my window
–
dripping leaves-
rippled shadows
in clear water

a beacon unlit
the lighthouse tender starts the
long journey upwards
–
your hot breath-
the birth of
a new flame

on the village green
the shadows of injustice
hang from an oak tree
–
greasy smoke-
torches light
a darkened path

simple linen shrouds-
worn at a time when we are
all truly equal
–
graveside-
the hollow echo
of falling earth

feeling out of place
out of time and out of mind
without you with me
–
unfamiliar stars-
in hotel sheets
missing you

the sea in the wind
salt, sand, and tropical sun
tangled in her hair
–
amid the waves-
she watches ships
ply her waters

you think things are bad
why not try rolling your eyes
at me one more time
–
crows take flight-
under the elm
a shallow grave

clumps of garden weeds-
the summer sun warms my back
and eases my mind
–
a golden breeze-
the wind caught
in her hair

down by the river
releasing slights collected
after all these years
–
on my back-
the weight of countless
grains of sand

her face to the sky
sundress plastered to her skin
at one with the rain
–
sandals in hand-
bare feet in
the wet grass