9/22/18
it is the last day of the seasonthe city hums a languid ballad
and paints tenth avenue with sighs
and drips of sweat
biding time before our final meeting
i watch gardeners tending to new flowers
in a gated yard outside a brick apartment building
song of breath still in my ears
amber locks
in my eyes my teeth
kisses dancing across my brain
like a ghost
no, you can never to hold
anything close enough to keep
but you cannot keep from wanting
and before you know it
the orange sky starts to bleed to black
and the gardeners finish their work and go on home
thinking themselves not pricked
barely dirtied at all