Untitled
A nascent wind
gives back the smoke from my drawn apart lips
trees rustle with summer's last life
dancing in their limbs
That was the last day i saw a green like the one below your brow
foreshadowing days to come brought
calling crows and cold
Cold without your arms to draw ahold
as the bath water left standing when i found you out
cold
on your mattress
and warmed you with a quilt
That day left me cold as the hydrangeas
in your grandmother's garden
the early brisk of fall, only beginning to wilt