Broken – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

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

soaring red-tailed hawks-

below veiled skies verdant trees

emerge from the mist

–

between the clouds

and the cut grass-

a wounded crow

shadows of small flags-
with a bouquet of flowers
she runs to your grave
–
mourning doves-
the young man
on the mantle

covered in lichens-
a tall and stately oak tree
sheds its dead branches
–
thin mountain air-
all my baggage
suddenly empty

life gets in the way-
in my haste I neglected
to say I love you
–
shifting skies-
one simple
phone call

as I leave this world
I pour my soul into you-
one last parting gift
–
out of the fire-
a perfect vessel
cracked

an ocean of sleep-
the receding tide leaves a
tangled mat of dreams
–
dandelion seeds-
bare whispers
of my mind

on the edge of sleep-
hours before my alarm rings
each noise a crisis
–
suddenly awake-
a murderer
or my cat?

reaching from behind
the hands at his neck slowly
loosening his tie
–
watching ants-
his entire life
buttoned down