Autumn (Visual Poem)

We’re still haunted by swing sets and see-saws. Our mothers once Technicolor, now white static and hum. We pray for fall to arrive so the ghosts will abandon our rooms. Instead go licking round the edges of the house. You see, only the cold and fog will tear them from me. That time you wrote of silence. Walking into the hotel room, a wordless stripping of my clothes. I am so bloodless tonight you can see right through me. Your mouth hard at my neck while crickets litter the porch. All the while light from stars fails. The possums, their hideous tails, trailing past us in darkness.