VII. FROM “STILL LIFE OF LEAVING”
How it ends: in nocturnal earth
pictures all houses
clump, amber leaves on Union
Square trees halfway
through November. They fold
and disappear, but soon
they will stalk
their moment of return.
Fear’s fires—end’s coming,
though not for all creations.
When Jake and I restored
his lost friend to the restaurant
she spittled words, a harpooned
tuna. En route home, saw
a girl supine in the street, a leaf
we decided not to rake.
For a week some bubbling
red rat-bird rots
on the curb while upstate
a flock does the same.
I came here to help
but my stay will be short.
An end is coming—
I despise surprises.
Glint Literary Journal 