radfrac_archive_full | Poem of the Month Club: October

My October Announcements

It's the first of October.
We're waiting for the weather to fail
so we can complain.

This morning, a junco
was tugging at a seed head
in the wild grass that sprouts
under the upstairs bird feeder.

It pulled the stem into a bow.
When it let go,
the grass sprang back
and the junco tumbled onto the pavement.

Next month,
I plan to write a novel
in thirty days.

In four weeks we'll put the clocks back.

In two weeks,
I'll be in Tacoma
having sex with a man I hardly know.
It's okay: he has promised
not to cut me up and put me in his freezer.

Next weekend I'll visit my parents.
We'll carve the turkey badly,
play endless hands of cards,
and forget we've all gone grey.

It's sunset. The ribbed sky grins.
The black cedar is its triangular eye.
Jack's silly apocalyptic head
lurches up over the cliffs,
the world shoving its mask up close to your face
saying: do you really want to see?

Fire burns in his mouth.
Children will become monsters.
Night will crack
the small seed of day
in its beak.
The end of the world
arrives punctually
each year, in October.

* * * * *

Notes

Line 4: At least I think it's a junco.

stitchinmyside said it was a junco, and why would she lie?

stitchinmyside, (and other clever persons) feel free to have another editing party. I assigned myself one poem per month, with seasonal references.

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Poem of the Month Club: October

beautifoso