" Polishing the silver" A Haibun

Polishing the Silver 

By Robert Kingston

The portal was modern, four sets of glass propped against the right-hand wall of an old building.

foot traffic 

beneath the ground

a war continues

We had been warned of loud bangs and flashes, and that those squeamish should shield their eyes, as blood mixed with grime and disease-riddled flesh could persuade one to forego lunch

at home

with the bugs

tree roots protrude

Moving along, musk’s of 99 years sidled their way drenching all in their path. Each side, windows through sandbags revealed the flashes between night and day, snow and rain, sun and fog, eyes burdened with terror, fire, pain, barbed posts with razor wire holding scantily clad men and horses 

stable block

a lackey mucks out

his mind

The timber supports holding the tunnel roof and walls were reconstructed to smell with years of decomposition, its surface of deep grain damp, the moisture running down onto concrete

cannon fire

a ring of deafness

resonates

grown men blown

into madness

Nearing the tunnel end, the light growing brighter, we view the last window of widows’ and spinsters’ love letters, telegrams, small memorabilia, belts, razors etc.in various rotted stages. 

An eyeglass catches my eye

fallen apples

each highly polished

in a flag

Outside we are graced with a stream of running water, a manicured tree-lined space leading us back into a rebirthed metropolitan market street.

Brandy -

we choose a toast

over tomato soup

Robert Kingston

This Haibun was first published in “Blithe Spirit” British Haiku Society 2017 Volume 28, number 1.