A Linked Haiku

War

The taste of fire is

not the taste of cinnamon.

It is more bitter.

 

The flavor lingers.

Deep brainwaves revive the bite,

conjure memories.

 

Bursting flower lights,

shrill cries, organized chaos.

A foot at his feet.

 

He startles awake,

dreaming of the fight, asleep

at the traffic light.*

 

Car horns and bomb shells

evoke times of poverty,

love, and body parts.

 

This is the way of the world;

Always war in times of peace.

 

*Lines two and three of this stanza are borrowed lines from Jackson Browne’s The Pretender.

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*Insert your thought here*

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