Beneath – Page 34 – Iron Haiku

an empty city-
young maples rises up through
the broken sidewalk
–
an old plow-
reclaimed
by the forest

asleep on a bench
the hard rap of a nightstick
startles him awake
–
dark rain-
wet newspaper
her only refuge

surrounded by wealth
still dissatisfied with the
overabundance
–
winter rain-
runnels
overflowing

our fingers entwined-
the dusky blush of daybreak
mirrored in your face
–
the rising sun-
my finger traces
along your lips

shadows of chimneys
painted on the rising smoke
by the setting sun-
–
curls of smoke-
your lipstick on
my cigarette

tufts of rabbit fur
strewn across the forest floor
beneath the owls nest
–
burning sands-
the condor casts
a broad shadow

lighting up the sky-
the glow of paper lanterns
adrift in the night
–
evening stroll-
the dance
of fireflies

bored eyes unfocused
staring out the car window
the guardrail floating
–
migrating geese-
an endless river
of taillights

the wind plays a cat
unravelling skeins of snow
as I walk along
–
the wee hours-
between my legs
a sleeping cat

encroaching shadows
race to fill the void left by
the crumbling day
–
sleeping dogs-
the shade of
a dying elm