everything looks deeper with broken rainbow eyes

warm-hard, these moments are like stone
as the leaves fall, browning. i
could fall with them, almost.
there is a loneliness
to this air, its wind. a pushing-away.

hover close, she seems
to say, warm-soft in the wet
light of her eyes. she could fall too,
almost, her wings so translucent
they don’t quite exist.

so i hover, resting.
it is a long way down
even for those who can fly.
i hover, staying. i know: pick
the sun-light out of stone and pulse

and air, and watch, and stay. there
is a loneliness to this sky
in its blue dry light
as the leaves brown and fall,
even for those who can fly.

it is too early

for sad winter metaphors.
september holds

a hard enough leaving
in her crumpled fist:

dry and caustic and
eager to flame. like

tracing flowers in bleach,
like soaking cattails in gasoline.