Travel – Page 3 – Iron Haiku

a stinging backhand-
the first truly cold fall day
greets me with malice
–
grey exhaust-
white plumes
of breath

emerging starlight-
walking past the coal stained homes
the old lamplighter
–
freshly cut grass-
rusted ice tongs
in the tool shed

rolling through the miles
cityscapes and farmer’s fields
pass by my window
–
morning commute-
the train’s shadow
among the trees

our long entrance hall-
the empty peg on the wall
where your coat once hung
–
distant smoke-
years of farmland
turned to ash

walking the highway-
seems I lost myself while I
was looking for you
–
sandstorm-
the mirage
an oasis

in an old wheelchair
a young girl waits deep inside
the shell of herself
–
first light-
a sliver of dawn
beneath the door

barely keeping still-
my fingers brushing across
your wet ruby lips
–
waves lap the shore-
your hair drying in
the tropical sun

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

sitting on the train
I look across the aisle and
see you as you were
–
hot city streets-
a stranger wears
my memories

dark attic corners
within an old cardboard box
dusty memories
–
summer boardwalk-
sepia toned
memories