Breath – Page 27 – Iron Haiku

night at terlingua
the glow of the fire beneath
a blanket of stars
–
desert sands-
rising embers
greet the stars

your head on my chest
my face buried in your hair
breathing in your scent
–
the witching hour-
watching your heart
softly beating

changing directions
deciding my journey starts
were the pavement ends
–
a cold wind-
stepping out
onto thin ice

standing by the sink
staring at my soapy hands
my momentum gone
–
blinders on-
running headlong
towards a dead end

a mournful windsong
whispering past long dead oaks-
the forest’s lament
–
graveside rain-
one last leaf
taken by the wind

quarter past midnight-
the breath of the city through
my open window
–
leafless trees-
darkened cars through
the driving rain

the time worn tombstones
children taken far too soon
their stories untold
–
a cardinal takes wing-
poppy blossoms
in the church yard

in the overgrowth
well worn by the hands of time
forgotten tombstones
–
by the window
waiting, staring
at the falling snow

dwelling in the past-
bricked up in this house of pain
my arm, my jailer
–
a wasp’s sting-
repeated lies
no longer told

butterfly kisses
half asleep on my shoulder
soft breath in my ear
–
cool breeze-
your tears
slowly drying