Haiku 11. 9.15

Warmth glares through city

bus windows, steams sleepily

above coffee cups.

September 13, 2015 / briefsalvage / Leave a comment

When she talks
with the sky, the wind
roars and whispers

7.17

Grey morning fog
envelopes like blankets
which can’t be
thrown off.

How can I save your memory

and still get the laundry done, still

have time for the groceries.

gleaming above pavilion
and girdle the table of this diamond
displays a confusion of wallet and heart,
but facets
are cut by the truth

smoke rose shamelessly
from your fingertips your lips
as the fog swirled
in and over my reason

Twisted in an infinite knot
the silk
scarf against your neck
so dark, elegant
and cold

After six days alone
my frozen yogurt card brims
with free stamps, yet free
is nothing when there’s no one
to be free with

morning sun shifts tiredly
across half turned faces
on the inbound train

His smooth, honeyed words
sent from the other side of the world,
belied the breaking
crash of his heart