October already, and
the trees lose their damp;
Silently into the night
it slips,
taking umbrage in sleeping forms and steam,
picking its way through drunken brawls and
leftovers.
***
October already, and
the clouds are amiss;
Gone to their grandma’s across
the bay,
Family feuds incite migrations
But if you never look upward
you can pretend they’re here still.
***
October already, and
the guttural discontent
climbs out of our bellies,
loops over shoulders and necks,
stops by the iris to nod hello,
before strangling us smugly
in our beds.
Vox populi