our houses burn
as November spins
its grey web
the red lipped leaves
of morning have gone
up the trees to die
in the thin fall light
death is coming
the smoke rears
as we hold hands
with a jealous god
I forgive you
our houses
are burning
like a chorus
of insects
the wings
of the dead
cutting deep
sugared incisions
tawny and blue
in the grey light
of November
I forgive you
our houses
are burning
and soon
the world
seems out
of reach
consumed
as our shadows
grow
November 9, 2023