A machinist, he smells faintly of metal – always.

She’s almost grown used to it.

He showers; she puts on a record and crawls into bed. She clutches the sheets to her chest, but still feels naked.

When he joins her he does so silently.

His embrace is clumsy; his beard is rough.

His eyes adore her.

She tries not to think of the man who crawled into a hole to die.

The same man who broke her, then growled, “if you’d meant to kill yourself, you’d have used bullets, not pills.”

Silence is fine.

two cypresses
lean into the wind


Inspired by Carpe Diem Haiku Kai:
Lean Into the Wind


As rain drops diminish
I hear the tapping
of the monk’s wooden bell

the cypress tree & I
lean into the wind

(c) Patricia Donegan

17 thoughts on “Metal”

  1. I like how the haiku allows for a hopeful interpretation, one of togetherness, after the painfulness of the prose. Another example of the power of the form when it’s handled well 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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