Lost OctoberHer heart like mercury on Oklahoma's shores
Her midnight hair clouds the morning
Her clay-foot cake walk across broken asphalt
Uncle John and Aunt Jo knew her youth
They tended her spider webs and
fed her intimate serpents
She has no opera sunglasses
She has no late tea cups
She has no patchwork dreams
Table cloth draped to the floor
Shadow fortress for afternoon tea
She hears the bees whisper
She finds her form in volcanic ash
She finds her voice in whirling winds
She finds her hands in the furnace
Her father is a giant, he drives the train
He carries her from station to station,
a talisman in his pocket
She tastes like vinegar
She haunts the feline alleys
Her shadow slithers from the past
26Oct2005