8 Haiku

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Contributor: Jennifer Montgomery

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the husk of a home
papery layers like ash
wings are hushed, stone-still

after the rains
slip of mud on stone

the memory lodged
like a bullet or a thorn
needing extraction

pain as sleeping limbs
a slight buzz then engulfing
as blood rushes back

a faint song
dust dances in light
walks old rooms

the mist rich, woolly
a stillness swallowing sounds
drinking bird call, time

her conduct pristine
on toe-tip, flitting, dancing
a brief smile, cordial

flushed cheeks
under the street lamp
a new play

- - -
"'There are no such things as synonyms! he practically shouted. Deluge is not the same as flood.'"


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