The Place We Know

You bend as the boughs 
in the warmth of Autumn
bared naked to the 
colder nights or distant gaze
in her terrible honesty. 

She moves to sway you…
(not unlike the gentle breeze)
but breaks each brittle vein
in attempts to gain what little
lingers on each branch –

bending still in the aching
evening set quiet to your love.
Still you reach, r e a c h, r   e  a  c  h –
snapped before her feet and
thrown into the fire

where there your body heats
her crumbling castle. 
The place your yearning built
(the place I know you know)
so sadly, long ago.

©️Audrey Rosengreen, 2019

The Last Time

It’s just like the last time –
worse though, I think
because nothing comes to mind
mind you, when I’m minding
my business as intended.
Emptiness bubbles up
from an empty well and I
wonder, well, how can that be?
There’s always something
in the emptiness, I mean.
I blame it on the happy.
Casually dying –
freely, absolutely.

I don’t mind it much, though.
It subsides like
fire on scattered weeds,
no place for me to feed.
And that’s just fine, I think.
Right, just fine. Yet, so
unlike the last time.

 

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2019