Autumn drops from the spit of summer.
It is brown, well-mealed,
perhaps a little burnt;
its plush resplendencies are gone,
its fruits are split.
That spring, that summer
grimace in a scattering of husks, a wizened apple,
is unbearable;
and at the core:
pipped deaths, abbreviations, futures going hard.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
Autumn drops from the spit of summer.
It is brown, well-mealed,
perhaps a little burnt;
its plush resplendencies are gone,
its fruits are split.
That spring, that summer
grimace in a scattering of husks, a wizened apple,
is unbearable;
and at the core:
pipped deaths, abbreviations, futures going hard.
