Snow-white birches bend low to the ground,
begging to be stripped of yellow leaves. In my head,
I am reading a poem to Geordie. You spread
your black pea-coat on damp earth, invite me
near the bonfire you have made. You cup
your hands as if around a match, enter me as easily
as breathing in–releasing oxygen, dispelling
strength. Smoke snakes around our ankles. A sooty
leaf rises a black-ghost smudges a cross on
my forehead. I carry my shoes across a stream,
stepping barefoot on stones warmed by the sun.
Hemlock boughs are are flattened soft from rain.
In England, a woman washes nappies rinses out
piss while composing a poem in her head. There
are scars where electricity scorched her temples.
If you call me by her name, I won’t answer. I’ll trudge
through fiery leaves that late autumn trees have shed.
I tell you it looks as if someone has been bleeding.
You say it’s the time of year to be lonely. We forage
branches of gold on our way home. We place them in clay
jars to lure love to a table glittering with beads of honey.
This poem can be found in my friend Laurie Byro’s very fine new book of poems, Luna
liked it, a fire
I love those photos~! (Always a sucker for autumn leaves … it must’ve taken hours to get that arrangement on the water just right …)
Thank you for including me in this lovely continuing project. We should find a publisher for a collab/photos and poems.
Now that’s an idea
Beautiful poem and image Melissa
Very vivid poem. I enjoyed it much. Your accompanying photo is quite nice also Melissa.
I am utterly disturbed and undone.
I think I shall live inside this poem today…
Love this poem, so different to many I’ve read on autumn! And congratulations on your poem being included in the book – exciting! 🙂
Glad you liked the poem, Suzy. It’s actually by a friend of mine from her new book, Luna (available from Amazon). She’s an amazing poet–blows the socks of me.
Thanks loads all, charissagrace I have 3 books since this, email if anyone has questions.