Hunger – Page 25 – Iron Haiku

box turtles basking
motionless, gently drifting
on a floating log
–
acorns falling
a silver flash
ripples the water

moonlight runs into
the soft hollow of your throat
and spills down your breast
–
blue black night
the grey owl
becomes the moon

barely enough room
in my zippered sleeping bag
for the two of us
–
white footprints
your hand
tightly in mine

small talk in their booth
a dinner plate shatters and
she’s back in Iraq
–
turning winds
a yearling doe
prepares to bolt

nubile and supple
and every move reminds me
of my need for you
–
warm afternoon sun
sodden and hungry
awaiting the spawn

tracing my fingers
across the sinuous curves
of your arching back
–
the crescent moon
your lips turn
towards mine

windows thrown open
sheer curtains gently wafting
in the evening breeze
–
becoming Icarus
flying westward
chasing the sun

a resting mayfly
the dimples in the water
signaling a carp
–
spreading ripples
a gossamer wing
on the surface

my wet business shirt
translucent where it clings to
the swell of your hips
–
cloudburst
unexpectedly
caught outside

encouraging words
left in the chinks in my walls
for my future self
–
in a sky blue egg
cracks begin
to appear