Breadcrumb #427


wind that twines lack

                                        deciduous doubt,
slender and peaked
a widowed harvest for the fork

shoulders flung into their own apotheosis

             the inside of our coat turned out
our year turned the colors
                    nesting in the stem

brown white teal
the leaf that becomes air at the touch

                                       arrival as season of leaving : :

             birds raked
from the trees

blanket drawn to the neck : : the new horizon
                       wistful, watchful
             wind that walks uneven heels : :
the body lifeless, levied, grievous, wind that finds center
                        at our center               

our year narrowed into a thick yellow custard upon the tongue

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