The Leaves

the leaves are hard and crunchy
under our sneakered feet
there seems to be an opening
to the other side of the street
the city is forgiving
when the city is asleep
but what we couldn’t steal
is what we’d have to keep

autumn is an archway
the element of sound
curved into our finger flesh
the savage is aroused
it wouldn’t be amazing
if the leaves had just turned brown
you can see the darkness coming
it’s just a short time now

the mornings have their pull on me
the blanket is my friend
though they are bad dreams
I don’t want them to end
though they are bad dreams
I can raise the dead
the leaves and wind are out there
but not inside my head

dinner has a first name
breakfast is a child
though it’s slow and plodding
you can make him smile
you can lift the covers
you can fall inside
open all the windowstake me for a ride

November 1, 1999