October

 

Like a queen, I wrap myself in garments and never touch the floor.

The earth hardens, and like a queen,

I claim months as my own.

 

I tie October to a bed and watch it rattle.

Watch it sneak calls and will itself branch-naked.

 

I swirl my month in my mouth.

I consider its taste and potency. Sneak it under the seat

and, queen-like, deny its existence.

 

October is in the cellar thinking about what it’s done.

I am in a mood for celebration.

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I see you and I am getting closer

 

October, you are getting soft in your old age

even the sight of an insect

brings you to tears.

You cannot tell if crying is good behavior

Let’s make a raft together let’s make

a calm memory – No.

 

Out of kindness, I gave you a window.

You see the outside is full of parts –

the sight itself could make the skin shrivel

like stone fruit – getting sweeter

and sweeter.

 

October

sober you believe paper to be made

of leaves and those fallen wings

leaf-like

to be important

correspondence.

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A letter

 

My god I am wholly cruel.

I have left you like a prayer to swing and swing in your own container.

I have sewed my name into yours I have used you like a tarp.

 

The best would have been to carve my words into a bowl

the way a stomach hollows itself

the way a bowel slyly becomes the center

of a system.

 

Or had I hoped to disappear in all this

to glow along the edges of a

softer feeling. The valve between here and there

a fine crystal.  crisp air.

 

I gave in quick so

buried somewhere

the weak echo

of something I knew

a note bent upward: