Anger – Iron Haiku

weary of donning
this mask, this gown, these gloves, I
once more go to work
–
hospital corridors-
the white noise
of dying

under a blood moon-
take my name from off your lips
and release my soul
–
wet ink-
my name
bound to you

alone at the bar-
a campari and soda
by a full ashtray
–
neon lights-
my reflection in
an empty glass

the sins of the past-
mixed with the cooling ashes
from the evening fire
–
dragonflies-
old misdeeds cast
upon the water

warm sands and tropi-
the cat yowls and paws my face
demanding breakfast
–
morning zoom call-
for the love of god
mute your mic

a thin scrim of frost-
muddy waters churn beneath
this fragile veneer
–
storm clouds-
reopening
old wounds

‘neath a festive sky-
cold ashes rain down upon
old lakota land
–
beneath the stars-
none of us free
unto the last

an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean

black america
locked inside the golden door
yearning to breathe free
–
hot city streets-
new seedlings break
through the concrete

vultures overhead-
circling waiting before
feasting on the dead
–
red skies-
a tempest
at our door