Nine Haiku

every morning god
I make of my body a
bridge, a cat, a corpse

I love the fully
inflated tire upright in
gravel – near the car

I don’t have to go
anywhere today – I move
to make the birds move

the finches threaten
one another simply through
acts of moving close

I long to meet who
I most fear – my mother and
her body in mine

tracing the boy I
see his mother – her hand out-
lined under us both

lifting the blinds – a
morning prayer – prepare this
house to receive light

again the seatbelt
would not go on – not with these
thrashers in the yard

the gate is inside
of me – I am holding it
open with a rock