Hunger – Page 4 – Iron Haiku

a coyote’s howl-
I walk out of my own skin
and right into yours
–
afloat-
my body below
an anchor

sleep clouding my eyes
I drive into the sunrise-
a cold autumn moon
–
cold dark morn-
torn from the womb
of my comforter

a cruel summer sun
the earth blistering beneath
her withering gaze
–
abandoned-
once fertile soil
becomes as dust

cold wind in my face-
through watering eyes I watch
hawks soar overhead
–
pure joy-
jowls flapping
in the slipstream

the cool below ground-
laying in the winter stores
before the first snow
–
late autumn morn-
a taste of last june’s
strawberry jam

thanksgiving morning-
a rafter of wild turkeys
wander through my yard
–
november frost-
a fresh dusting
of fallen leaves

sheets pooled on the floor-
the graceful swell of your hips
framed by the moonlight
–
lingering dawn-
one final kiss
graces your lips

sputtering neon-
piles of rags weakly lit by
the staccato glow
–
november night-
threadbare blankets
in the doorway

grey evening clouds
gauzy and diaphanous
thinly veil the moon
–
a warm orange glow-
the harvest moon
buried in the clouds

wild racing thoughts-
my fix is the sleep I so
desperately crave
–
an open window-
coyotes call out
in the rising dawn