our lives stopped in October
    with the brain tumor
    (that wasn't even ours)
and now there's a calendar
    and piles of things
    all stuck in October
while our real selves are in spring
    or is it our fake selves
    gone on before us
with the impossible feeling that we
    will never catch up
    still here in October
and the flowers are blooming
    the April showers
    bringing May flowers
to October.

in October he died
    though his body lingered on
    his meanness and vanity too
but there was never home again
    no corn from the garden
    no last buck to bring down
everything that should be
    died just before fall
    though life continued to gasp
through Christmas, into winter
    half-life, half-stopped, desperate
    and breaking
since October.