Haiku
The following Haiku were written in response to a very dark time in my life. Out of the depths of addiction withdrawal came the yearnings of my soul in this art form. I sent these to the Hershey corporation as a desperate cry for help after they ruthlessly yanked green twizzelators from the shelves of 7-11s everywhere with no warning.
Haiku 1
green Twizzelators
the taste of key lime goodness
gone now, forever
Haiku 2
agonizingly
I await news of key lime
green Twizzelators

Linen
delicate rustle.
warm damp caress of soft linen scent envelopes me.
Never was one to iron sheets.
Until now.
spread out before me, (hills and valleys sprinkled with dove feathers)
cool in the chill air

damp

warmth

fading

She would hang them up to dry. Snapping them out. Crisp * clean in the fresh air.

heavy wet sheets strung out on a tight line.

She loved Joe like that. he adored women. She was strung out on Joe he held her up.

sing to me again

his hand, a drop of water sliding down the curve of her glass spine settled at the small of her back
drew the clothes peg from her mouth, she would sing to him like a bird
Joe's little bird

I hear a blackbird calling me outside (inside?)
like a stranger in some foreign tongue,
so long,
so long,
bird's eye in the branches hide,
black bird's black word's seventh song,

I never knew Joe.
Longed to,
longed to know his love,
dreamt about it.

he died of a strained heart. grey September tears packed in shoe boxes and bottles for my mother's lost father. she watched her mother. sweet littel bird. captured bird song in her breast.
it was never heard again.

HOW TO KILL AN INJURED BIRD
Seal the bird in a small, dark container. Keep container sealed until the oxygen is depleted rendering the bird lifeless.

beating feathers grow silent.

hard
cold iron

I first met my Joe at a wedding. hearts in throats beating wildly.

iron to flesh
flames blade slash
i tried to sing/he couldn't hear me
washed up on his shore he found me and tried to iron out my wrinkles.
he had a strong heart,
iron heart.

My iron glides gracefully across the cold linen sheets.
Smothering scars with it's searing touch.
Fingers red blooms of rust, tears of wear.
Hard creases on a tired brow.
Burning steam pulls them taught.

Erasing everything in it's path.

naked
white
linen

elegant burgany wine stain flowers, spread across the sheets, across the floor. mother sipping wine with elegant hand. eyes closed soft with caterpillar lids. bound by linen sheets.
surround her.
hide her.
till the clock ticks noon.

he lays beside her a cold iron.
bird sings from it's cage.

I spread the cool linen across the bed. Quiet linen scent lingering in thr air. Gentle white shroud settling softly. Cool cover of snow atop a freshly dug grave.

Sweet sleep cover me.

I awoke last night terrified in hot and sweaty tangled sheets. Nightmares of deep, shattering screach of wrenching trees. Shrieking tornado, screaming fiend. Howling banshee, raging forward erasing everything in it's path.
Shattered house, smashed cage.
What would I take from this havoc?

I watch as it retreats. crystal water tower moving in slow motion. growing distant.
fading
still

I hang my sheets now.
I love to stand outside with the cool crisp air whispering through my hair.
I hang them and listen to the wind whip them. clothes peg in mouth. clip to the tight line. full billowing white sails.
seven feathers drift down, offering up open surrender.

she still dreams about Joe. lying between the linen sheets.

sing softly to me again
my little bird