Followers

Sunday, September 11, 2011

autumn

when we awoke
the rush to save each moment
before we passed them
through the doors
out into the streets
was deafening.

abrasive upon our tongue
and shaky at our lips

now, away
where memory slips,
fragments
turn sharply into thoughts-
collapse and colorful adjectives
amongst
discarded clothing.

i pull the leaves from the sill.
i smell your skin
lingering like the last gasp of dusk.

2 comments:

Julia Gordon-Bramer said...

Great ending!

Colles said...

i feel a lot of crinkly golden with this. nice