draft

October 5, 2010 12:00AM

bathed in cinnamon and pearl,
you feel again the porcelain eaves strain a-gainst a
‘cosm full of wind and weaving grain.

blurry october,
grieved-scratched trees rock and tap the
chambers gloom
–mopped–molded–
you lie in milk
–naked–shudder–tilt–
autumn arches it’s back around the fields of the
fallen
teaspoons full then emptied of
spice–

we both cuddled up to this oak and felt it
ripple.

a whistling sigh, drain against flesh,
the splashing as you get up and dress is
rebellion.