Tide

the slow push of surf-
a lighthouse in the distance
obscured by the fog

distant foghorns
cairns lost
to the tide

Suicide

clutching thoughts and prayers
while we let those who suffer
slip through our fingers

predawn chill-
sleeping children
suddenly fatherless

Disaster

horizontal rain-
fractured palms and broken dreams
tumble down the street

dark greasy smoke-
The sky lit
by falling embers

Insomnia

dull red numerals-
precious sleep stolen away
minute by minute

the wee hours-
eyes wide open
In the darkness

Fog

snow on the gravestones-
the caretaker’s lantern swings
haloed in the fog

moonlit snow-
fog sprawls
across the road

Temptation

tiny wisps of light
at the edge of the forest
dancing in the dark

the nighttime sea-
distant sirens
in the dark

War

twisting in my sleep
I smell the blood and cordite
and lotus flowers

torrential rain-
countless lost
to take a hill

Vampire

the creak of hinges-
curtains drawn against the light
rising in the east

fading daylight-
the rustle of
leathery wings

Touch

my outstretched fingers-
reaching out for your touch but
you’re already gone

icy fog-
your skin cold
to the touch

Stone

so many evenings
spent in stony solitude
with yet without you

rain etched stones-
the once neat path
overgrown