Haiku 55

Sat still his whole life… at the last second–one arm closer to the stars

Marchers gone home… I watch steady storm spatter take the concrete

Tenth week of the plague… they pull down their masks to talk over the dog

Beard to his belt and one black boot halfway onto the bus

Autumn of the heart… if we’re all dead, who takes stock of the curled leaves?

Lightbulb not like dawn, He leaves Him to zip up… grit on both boots

Hardly the Fourth, but bombs boom and sparks skitter on sidewalk

Tenth week of the plague… the wind turns a book’s pages, Broadway concrete

Tenth week of the plague… dog hunches and runs like a fugitive

Tenth week of the plague a bottle breaks loose on the bus… rolls where it will

The General sleeps patio awning rolled back, courting sunburn

Tenth week of the plague… the rocking orange tent gives way– a black child, black braids

Tenth week of the plague… I wait to see if the mask drops past his nostrils

Tenth week of the plague… rapper holds phone to one ear for his backing track

Tenth week of the plague… the train knows the lake route– I don’t

Tenth week of the plague, the train’s air-conditioned, but… her Japanese fan

“I’ve got appointments… four doctors in the next month– how behind I am!”

Tenth week of the plague… the crows–so saucy these days! dive straight down

Tenth week of the plague… barbershop child screams like steel on marble