AUTUMN
she wears autumn as a dress
with rouge and russet pleating
the scent of hot apple embroidered
into the hem
woollen gloves sewn with sunset
and demerara sugar
ankle boots with heels like kindling or
blackberry thorns
she winds the curling fire-leaves
between her fingers, trails them
through dark hair to fall like a wine-coloured
waterfall, down
burnt caramel eyes watch the
cinnamon birds fly southward
as they follow endless aeroplane trails
scratching the sky
a sky of horizons, of
endings, beginnings maybe
a sky of burnished water and something
she cannot name
and her mouth twitches, the flavour
of her favourite lipstick
she thinks of wellington boots and snapped twigs
puddles, bonfires
like cracking open an old
dried-out and dying shell
to find a glossy conker hidden there
like a present
that bittersweet gift that is
perfection wrapped in chaos
sometimes we can't see past death to new life
until after
she can taste it on her tongue
that crisp apple-cider tang
of clearer skies and rain that smells of tin
of copper coins
like the ones in the jam jar
she keeps on her windowsill
to see how they gleam in the cold sunlight
penny-wishes
her window reflection smiles
unexpectedly trembling
lighting up like a halloween pumpkin
from the inside
then she stands and she dances
to an audience of none
pirouettes across the sun-streaked floorboards
oblivious
twisting, her autumn dress twirls
a carillon of silence
clouds of golden dust swirling around her
in the sunbeams
she wears autumn as a dress
with rouge and russet pleating
or at least until winter comes along
to take its place
