It’s snowing outside.
Inside I sow lavender,
native, rosea.
The seeds erupt there,
in the perlite, the clay pots,
by frosty windows.
Cow-blue belles on white,
lace-like, soft green sprigs on foams,
tap cold window glass.
Remember that place?
In open fields beside me,
in that other life?
I will freeze you there
in spacetime, kiss your both cheeks,
cold, smooth Rosea.
Lost in deep embrace,
clinging tight when the pond cracks,
us falling under.
Frantic, in frenzy,
we bubble under the ice.
Boiling cold water
burns in our lungs.
We fight for air, the door back
to the lavender.
The world’s quiet though
fires still burn there along
the way we got lost.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Haiku Redux is
not a bad name for a band.
Don't you think? I do.
They'd play all their tunes
in seventeen four time, or
eighteen, but who's counting?
Chicheme, March 2013
Alphabet City 