Walking home,
autumn throws summer on her back,
merciless,
flattens her with searing breath
that drags her richness
in a wild disorder,
fumbles undersides of leaves in
showers of struggling white,
sends rooks screaming and
staggering down empty alley-ways of air.
Relentless he strips her down, rag
by bloody rag.
Her body flames and burns, twists
in agony.
The sun turns stranger, cold, and
will not be involved.
Bruised, violated, she drags her
bones
to a cold corner of despair.
(October,
1987)
