October

[expiring_touch]

I sail along these edges immortality

It’s in
extension of the legs, knees maybe, too,
their curvature derivative of muscle

void

whoever said leaves autumn silently
so falling?
no, rather, crash
insistent of a suicide.

the wickers burn, stale smoke trails off
the ground, damp, rich smell of
rot

and ever

chill air smoothes itself into my skin.