our fingers stained red

berries sliced in the blue bowl

the scent wafts between

your thumb’s callus rasps along

my tongue as I have to taste


I watch your lips shape

each syllable. The pointed

red tip of your tongue

pressed against your white teeth. I

wonder why not against mine.

Haiku for Saturday

I bask in sunlight

A bitter breeze draws goosebumps

Across my bare skin


rain strikes the window
pale greyness just before dawn
mug warming my hands

tanka and promises of summer

the rippling lawn
on the cusp of turning green
a squirrel pauses
random violets sprinkled
like freckles on your shoulders

geometry of heartbreak

sheets grow colder
as my foot crosses
the long edge of the Mason-Dixon line

that invisibly divided us
into separate spaces,
parallel lines
that tangentially
we forgot how to cross

through the oblong window
your empty side of the bed-
a sliver of crescent moon
wraps around
the darkened space
hollowed out inside

Do you think the moon
is lonely
for the part
it no longer sees?

Considering many shapes
of heartbreak –
circular thoughts
of 4am, of love
of loss,
of you