Part of what makes Autumn so charming is its inherent self-reflective melancholy. Every fall I feel sad about pasts that I rarely think of at other times of the year. It's a sort of mourning for the absence of a specific pain--a pang at the realization that the once gripping, absorbing to-the-brim suffering has transformed itself into a vague and often absent-minded, undedicated nostalgia. So that's what this is.
Thanks to Eric for inviting me to post.
Hannah
what did you think would happen?
i)
I lean as close to your body
with my words as I can.
-Hafiz
I don’t know who took the photo with the despair
a flick of the wrist
and everything shifts
what I will take home
what will stay.
push forward
nothing’s good enough
we don’t even need a complete sentence
disconsolate,
stuck between apples, temperance—
sweet, tart and thin-skinned
all that space between provides
is space
ii)
I let time slide—
my grey Belief—
remember
remember when I was all
hardened gleam--
my body just moving?
Remember dirty jokes?
time don’t slide, dearie.
I was just dragging it behind me—
iii)
At the top of the park
golden sludge of traffic
nudges lights
across the black smear of road
toward your house--
this time is the same as that time
only
more beautiful.
