Five Haiku

Tantrums of flame gush

from throats of gunpowder tubes.

Take notice of me!

 

Bones of bonfire shift.

Startled sparks light up skull-eyed

faces in bushes.

 

Wisp of grey veil floats,

like some weary Guy Fawkes’ ghost,

out through night’s black walls.

 

Spent sparklers spear out

in webs of wire weaponry

at anxious ankles.

 

High over midnight

an insistent arc of stars,

still stage-struck, signs off.

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