Age – Page 13 – Iron Haiku

I can feel you breathe
swaddled in my dead embrace
my arms paralyzed
–
a twin bed-
your pajamas
against my skin

staring at the clock
waiting an eternity
for the time to change
–
my mind’s ear-
wide awake
in the dark

autumn afternoon-
the sound of a cricket lost
amid the tall grass
–
rotting wood-
silent shadows
of the forest

an open window-
she disrobes in the shadows
to bathe in moonlight
–
the hunter’s moon-
a dryad hidden
in her tree

emerging starlight-
walking past the coal stained homes
the old lamplighter
–
freshly cut grass-
rusted ice tongs
in the tool shed

river clay and dust
takes on a life of its own
much to my chagrin
–
pounding rain-
the stream a torrent
of mud and debris

deep in the pine boughs
two gray squirrels chase each other
around the tree trunks
–
gray squirrel-
scolding me
from on high

afternoon sunlight-
an old man and his grandson
asleep on the floor
–
sunday mornings-
step stool by the sink
shaving together

peeling back the dark
exposing the ugly truth
to the light of day
–
low tide-
broken shells
on the sand

my bedside vigil-
each moment slipping away
taking you with them
–
machines hum-
outside your window
a starless night