Breath – Page 15 – Iron Haiku

your silver hammer
softly tapping cracks into
my porcelain heart
–
soft breathing-
your hair gold
in the sunlight

echoes in the walls-
this unfurnished apartment
hiding its secrets
–
harvest moon-
cool wind
in the corn field

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

waiting for the bus
she seeks shelter from the rain
and years of abuse
–
a sudden squall-
the sky bruised
and blackened

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

the party over-
blackened wicks smolder in the
citronella pots
–
constellations-
old friends and
old stories

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

an old swimming hole-
piles of clothes left abandoned
on the grassy shore
–
a frayed rope swing-
old memories
bittersweet