Little Bodies

i tried to write a haiku, but it spilled over into something else


shrunk into delight
i watch with eyes in mirror,
you comb my wet hair

in city sleepers,
silent cabinets echo
your name: johanna

cold hands and bathtime
towel turban. keep us warm -
soft drips on shoulders

outside the window
night erodes the garden, with
plushy yellow moon

not even the tap
is heard. midnight air chills us
to the very core

of being. damp cheeks
burn with cold; i hear the siren,
the rugged tyres

diesel bomb drops loud;
explodes. squeeze shut the exit.
exit wound, quiet death