in bursts of hundreds, ten thousand leaves
stampede over the crest of Rosemary Lane

this scurry of heedless massing
of rodents in drunken escape streams

their electric discharge belittles
the sunset slipping into darkness

crossing our feet in some derangement
the pelting of sleet


some October night
shivery petals shall upend
a row of headstones, too

somehow each New England autumn comes
down to boughs in a graveyard

a common of stone and bone

a wailing wall
for a New Zion


it’s not blood you’re shedding
but fire
– flames and coals
before the icy

turns airy in sequence

until only the strokes

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015
A section of this poem originally appeared in Medicinal Purposes


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