Fall brittles what is left

over from summer

velvet-lust. Leaves 

scattered across the 

ground, family

trees threadbare like ours. 

Dusk falls before we can 

map the leaves’ colors to 

their celestial counterparts. I

want to pack my bags, head 

South for the season, kill 

the cold, find you and I on

that sunset bridge again.

 

We both know now that life

goes on. I shuffle in place and

feel our bones crack under my feet.

The wind calls, I zip myself up, 

imagining the phantom warmth of

your hand in mine. Ready, I move.