Murmuration

Sky mackerel high
fallen apples scatter wide
leaves crisp beneath my feet

October’s on the march.

Spinning - top light
a spider’s web, its sticky
tendrils clutch my face

panic in my mind
I’m on the run again.

Twilight holds a
lowering moon
its fingers pointing

at my heart,

my beating heart
an empty space
where all my lovers

used to sleep.

I cannot hold the candle
I cannot find the gold
I cannot sing the song

you need:
it's sticking in my throat.

I’ve walked a million pathways
I’ve lived a myriad lives
I’m hardening into crystal

my blood as thin as ice.

Sky mackerel high
apples rotting on the sward
leaves that fall in winnowing wind

here autumn’s in my bones;
solidify the hungry tide

I’m powder in the  breeze
I’m will o’ wisp there’s
nothing left

of how I used to be.