Fractured Haiku


Raindrops on roses,
fluttering wings against wind —
song-dances of souls.


Song-dances of souls;
only imagined whispers
in the moondark hours?


In the moondark hours
lights the far spaces.


Lights — the far spaces
of the city weep crystal;
ambulances scream.


Ambulances scream;
my cat scratches in the night —
her presence comforts.


Her presence comforts.
Sleek thighs between my own, and
a handful of breast.


A handful of breast
smaller than mine. After love
we watch walls, silent.


We watch walls, silent.
She questions absent colors —
“They’re for my mother.”


“They’re for my mother —
‘Whatever can go wrong, will.’
Her philosophy.”


Her philosophy;
no room for abundant breasts.
Love sinks, whimpering.


Love sinks, whimpering,
shivering, rocking. She says
“Let’s just get pizza.”


Let’s just get pizza.
She says she will hold me tight.
Hold the anchovies.



M.A. Mohanraj
September 25, 1996