Hunger – Page 8 – Iron Haiku

red stiletto heels
peeking out from underneath
the hem of her skirt
–
silk stockings-
black lines trace
the curve of her calves

droning bumblebees
flit from flower to blossom
gathering nectar
–
a young black bear-
prospecting
for gold

softly he sings-
the workday forgotten as
he tends his bonsai
–
an empty bench-
pigeons await
her arrival

shards of broken glass
strewn deeply across my path
yet still I walk on
–
moonlit surf-
hatchling turtles
dash for the sea

a hot acrid wind
rattles the sand blasted bones
hanging from the trees
–
cool lemonade-
wind chimes ring
on the front porch

a wine glass empty
save for the mark your lips made
when kissing the rim
–
thick woolen socks-
a spark jumps
between our lips

puppets to a one-
dancing to unheard music
hung from tangled threads
–
skeletal fingers-
pulling taut
the threads of fate

an old church graveyard
dogwood petals salt the ground
o’er the waiting dead
–
grey rain-
tumbled stones
on hallowed ground

a dank feeble breeze-
the rumble of the el train
passing my window
–
distant sirens-
my room awash
in a neon glow

rain thunders outside-
oil painted landscapes smearing
against my window
–
old masters-
failing vision
frozen in time