Autumn Poem
autumn regains composure,
smooths her rumpled skirts
and casts a sharp, cold glance
morning brings no offerings
to the lovers.
what lingers in their hair
what remains a fixture
when they part, is the silence
autumn crosses her legs
as i walk past her blue eyes
into noon. (my hands, white,
shake with a seasonal indifference)
the lovers, trembling with
an equal cold they have
prepared as excuse, lift
their hearts for one last
measure of rehearsed joy
muttering about the cost
of oil, i leave the furnace off
& autumn snickers.
she quotes the price for any
source of warmth this season
nothing is spared
in the silence.
all things, within reason,
go unspoken
as the lovers escape
their nightly promises
unscathed
although it is refuge
from this cold i seek,
autumn offers me her hand
& i take it, a gamble
i hadn't anticipated making
until considering that
no matter how many times she leaves
she will always return.
