Chance – Page 23 – Iron Haiku

the knife in my back
carved the windows in the walls
I’d built for myself
–
creeping ivy-
ruins of stone
foundations

awake in my bed-
dawn eases through my window
gilding all I see
–
a web of stars-
blackbird songs
invades my dreams

the lobsterman’s wife
watching the lighthouse at the
dying of the day
–
silent passage-
darkening water
laps the shore

home with my regrets
I should have asked for a kiss
when I had the chance
–
your upturned lips-
moths flutter
in the porch light

a shattered windshield-
shards of broken promises
spread across the road
–
text messages-
driving past what
used to be a car

clouds out ash and dust-
the soil of this arid land
affords no purchase
–
orange skies-
rivers of black glass
plunge into the sea

april’s robin song-
the morning moon rolls over
and kisses the sun
–
cat at my feet-
your back warm
against my chest

staring down into
another empty bottle
devoid of answers
–
august sun-
tumbleweeds across
a dry creek

a candle and spoon-
the bare bulb above her head
casts a harsh shadow
–
on the corner-
slowing headlights
catch the rain

dark foreboding clouds
low in the afternoon sky
harbingers of doom
–
soft rain-
broken trees
and power lines