Housewife Haiku

empty bench at the bus stop

wind swirling trees

swallowtails zigzag

a solitary walk, bug spray

swollen blare of distant lawnmowers

sweat forms between breasts

pines lean, creak over sunlit lawns

squirrels dart across an empty road

creek’s glimmer through tree trunks

washing machine rumbles

on fingers, scent of onion lingers

blood drips from a cut on the thumb

front porch: a nest in the lamppost

nervous finch flits back and forth

watches with suspicion

5:07 pm, check the mailbox

for the third time, paperless

ladybugs huddled in crevices

postal truck hovers at each driveway

expected wave of a neighbor

stout and graying, a woman bends to plant bulbs

slam of a door

backpack thrown in a corner

goldfish cracker crumbs spill from pockets

waiting for the red light

rain whimpers on the windshield

rubber wipers moan in 6/8 time

mold gathers under shampoo bottles

bathtub’s enamel cracked, water drains

toothpaste smears in the sink

before sunrise, coffee with cream

dim blue light through the kitchen window

a red fox slinks across the yard

living room: a piano sits vacant

music scores piled, dust gathers

silence in sunlight

clothes lumped on the bedroom chair

late afternoon sun pours through a window

frozen faces peer through picture frames

evening, husband on the couch

buzz of television, brandy glass

toes protrude through a crocheted blanket

kitchen counter strewn with papers

half-read books piled haphazardly, dog-eared

in the margins, fragments of scribbled poems