Haiku #190

190.

Something magical exists
In the spine of the stag.
In his antlers, upturned hearts.

Haiku #181 – #183

181.

The past is always more innocent.
And so, what am I still innocent of?
Those horrors yet to come.

182.

Politics, here, does not work.
Its shape, the contour and flow
Of power dressed as people.

183.

Whose dreams am I within
If not mine. Who owns
My gait, a look, a thought.