Whatnot Haikus

Her mason jar heart
was crammed full of sweet jellies,
now crystallized shut.

He kept his bright thoughts
to himself, like fireflies in
an airless shoe box.

She felt his gaze slide
over her naked contours
like a slow, wet slug.

A pen trepanning
to relieve the pressure of
old, stagnant ideas.

Blueberry custard
Eastward, yet lemon meringue
Westward: dusk’s divide.

As a startled doe
crashing along the fence line
she rebuffed herself.

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