when you rose
to leave, all the paths
went with you
*
Tied to your hand
by a string, the moon tugs on
a string held by mine
*
I’d like twelve arms
two to hold you while the other
ten let you go
*
I toss a coin up
to the sun, heads, tails, this coin
with your name on it
*
before I could ask if
you’d kiss even the blackest
part of me, you did
stunning, friend.
Great sequence of haiku, #2 and #3 my favorites, but the entire piece works so well in stretching the American idea of haiku. Pic is perfect, a winter garden, raked by wind, with tracks.