As If We
Needed Another Autumn To
pull the plug
on summer
set the stage
for winter
strand seven apples
in a green glass
bowl on
a kitchen table
goad us
outdoors to
stand in
thrall to
sky blue yarn
unspooled to dusk
flinch at a flurry
of red and yellow hands that
clamor to
push us
to our knees
hold us down
weight our lids
with copper while we
count backward
lulled by wood
smoke, fleeting color
we need
like a goddamn hole
in the head
like someone
to
come along to
kick leaves
search for words
another poem
the last thing
we need night to
erase our outlines
free us
to
lean on rakes
inhale smoke
from a thousand
burning stanzas.
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