Lost – Page 2 – Iron Haiku

alone at the bar-
a campari and soda
by a full ashtray
–
neon lights-
my reflection in
an empty glass

the screen door askew-
on the dead oak a tire swing
full of autumn leaves
–
a rusted bike-
through the spokes
foxtails grow

hard edged and soulless-
the treacherous dawn comes to
spirit you away
–
softly closing doors-
again I awake
to an empty bed

wrought iron street lamps-
ancient cobblestones vanish
in the rising fog
–
echos of hooves-
a hansom cab
lost in the mist

unearthed by the wind-
stone sentinels laid low by
the passage of time
–
dew kissed moss-
a small stone shrine
unvisited

under a shade elm
I leave a small stone marking
the site of my grave
–
cut white lilies-
so casually
discarded

a cold night’s work done-
the creeping light of daybreak
seeps into my tomb
–
guttering torchlight-
weary of the death
that slakes my thirst

a thin scrim of frost-
muddy waters churn beneath
this fragile veneer
–
storm clouds-
reopening
old wounds

milkweed in the wind-
beside the ancient live oak
I bury our bones
–
a lonesome gong-
pale wisps of trees
fade in the mist

an old farmers sink-
her mind miles away from the
blood in the carpet
–
back garden soil-
no amount of soap
makes her feel clean