Summer – Page 8 – Iron Haiku

rains of twilight passed-
crickets outside my window
singing me to sleep
–
tv static-
the low hum
of a ceiling fan

broken shower tiles
a bare bulb hangs from a chain
in my one room flat
–
after last call-
neon signs
light my way home

a bottlebrush tail
the cat readies to pounce on
the bat by my door
–
cans clatter-
small marauders
stalk the alleyway

under the night sky
conversation and laughter
as the fire dies down
–
starlight-
good friends and
wine loosened tongues

a cutting garden-
in the shade of a straw hat
she tends the flowers
–
up with the sun-
bent double
pulling weeds

sitting at the bar-
beautiful and dangerous
death in a red dress
–
mangrove trees-
crocodiles
come and go

crimson rose petals
clinging to a withered stem
slowly turning brown
–
tea rose petals –
the crystal bowl
overflowing

an overgrown lawn-
ravens nest in the eaves of
what was once a home
–
rotting lumber-
vines climb
though the floor

my blood in the sink-
I should be panicking but
I can’t feel the pain
–
tendrils of fog-
undisturbed by the hooves
of a pale horse

among the rushes
herons stand in the salt marsh
waiting for the tide
–
auburn sunrise-
dawn breezes stir
fields of cattails