Family – Iron Haiku

mornings

standing by the sink-
I feel the warmth from your feet
on the bathroom floor
–
lost in your dreams-
I silence my alarm
before it wakes you

wreaths of dead flowers-
how can I blame you now for
my dirty dishes
–
the front door locked-
my footsteps echo
down the hall

linens on the line-
warm peals of children’s laughter
waft in on the breeze
–
wicker baskets-
a coffee can of
broken clothespins

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

a worn dinette set-
memories of old comforts
in the falling rain
–
water crackers-
a chipped tea cup
rimmed in red

the senbazuru-
origami alchemy
brings my cranes to life
–
parchment skin –
rice paper slowly
creased and folded

honeysuckle wine-
content letting the front porch
host my slow decline
–
passing cars-
an afghan shrouds
her empty rocker

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

shadows of small flags-
with a bouquet of flowers
she runs to your grave
–
mourning doves-
the young man
on the mantle