death in autumn

that inevitable cliché // the deplorable rightness of nature

safety orange

among blood-colored leaves—hunting season

the empty days
in his pocket calendar

the skeleton it wasn’t

these ancient mountains
my wobbly knees

the sacrament’s
exoskeleton

returning to the grove
he planted

the giant
my father was

with one eye open
it’s his vigil too

the yes/no yes/no
of his breath

an old face mask
in my coat pocket

double-sealed doors
it’s autumn