anti-ode to the november time change
the sky bedded down early today achy-ribbed from dance class & worried about her looming
physics test—so i fall asleep without my homegirl & wake up to a newfound frost in the air. oh honey,
have you seen how the evening gloom rolls out faster around the holidays, monochromatic bones unfurling
into the atmosphere all ghostly & celestial like silver damascened steel? i know it’s not the sky’s fault.
meteorologists say this dark is just a thing of the times, but i’ve never felt so much like i am sinking into a lullaby
that i don’t know the tune of. i call the song november & set it to the melody of elevator xmas music, but
the season still stings. even now the trees seem shaky in their scratched bark skin, skyless & scared, as if
we’re all waiting for a big, omnipresent creature to squelch our tiny bodies under its thumb. who will catch the sky
sleepy & vulnerable just outside of her last class of the day, grab her by the backpack, turn our world half-empty.