Saturday, October 10, 2009

Wind-Breath

October is when the wind gets inside my skin
turns me inside-out, becomes my breath
as a spray of scarlet leaves becomes my heart.
And my bones know what the black stones
in the old retaining wall at the corner know--
black basalt, come from the hottest fires of earth
as the soul comes hot from God's forge.

Wind-breath, God-breath, stirring the city
you speak in so many strange tongues
moaning around buildings, whispering in trees
chattering with dead leaves. Flesh can't contain
such knowledge; it leaks away with each exhale.

So this is the season of skeletons and bare branches
fleshless fingers pointing the way. Yes, I will
follow the fading candles down an avenue
of jack o'lantern skulls. In time. In time,

for now I am held fast by the fragrance
(as delicate as a cobweb across my face)
of tiny pale tea roses, the last of summer.

keeping up with Read Write Poem's October challenge
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

4 comments:

bearlyaudible said...

Beautiful Tiel. Keeping up, indeed, and this poem, a bundle of autumn images.

Flesh can't contain such knowledge...
I am held fast by the fragrance of tiny pale tea roses...

Just two images, so well invoked. Especially perhaps the last, an expression of the potency of small things. Very nice.

Anonymous said...

from Therese L. Broderick -- a poem about shape-shifting which offers a rich medley of images (sight, smell, touch, hearing). A poem on the threshold between seasons. Liminal. Very nicely done. I appreciate how closely you are following the prompt, combining both body and October.

caroleesherwood said...

i really like "a spray of scarlet leaves becomes my heart" and "fleshless fingers" pointing the way!

Ruth said...

Wonderful!