Broken – Page 17 – Iron Haiku

well before sunrise
the clamor of rubbish bins
echoes in my sleep
–
venus rising-
masked bandits
steal my trash

so many evenings
spent in stony solitude
with yet without you
–
rain etched stones-
the once neat path
overgrown

my old tired soul
steeped in warm flowing water
washing me away
–
frozen windows-
winter winds blow
through my soul

a pile of old clothes-
years of living on the street
etched deep in her face
–
dirty snow-
sleep arrives on
a cardboard box

lying here in bed
unnbeknownst to you your trust
already betrayed
–
heavy fog-
your train leaves
without me

a cold rain falling-
trying to stay warm with tales
of wine and whiskey
–
white mountains-
caribou freeze
at a cracking branch

an overnight storm
invades my dreams and I wake
to trees turned to glass
–
frozen rain-
crystal branches
brush the ground

pour me another
for I’m not yet numb enough
to make new mistakes
–
darkling beetles-
drunk on the
morning dew

reaching for your hand
I would touch you if only
I could turn back time
–
under the oak tree-
lost in our
history

at the podium
a wool blanket wraps itself
around my tongue
–
summer sun-
snowy cotton
waiting for harvest