Fear – Iron Haiku

weary of donning
this mask, this gown, these gloves, I
once more go to work
–
hospital corridors-
the white noise
of dying

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

a cold water flat-
the pilot light on the stove
sputters and goes out
–
new year’s eve-
the rent check
overdue

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

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

encroaching midnight-
the doomsday clock poised to toll
humanity’s dirge
–
pools of red wax-
guttering candles
cast their meager light

ghost of old rumors-
morbid curiosity
about the house on the hill
–
a one eyed crow-
tortured shrieks of
wrought iron hinges

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

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