Status Updates From The October Palace

I thought I would love you forever -
and, a little, I may,
in the way I still move towards a crate,
knees bent,
or reach for a man: as one might stretch for
the three or four fruit that lie in the sun
at the top of a tree;
too ripe for any moment but this,
they open their skin at first touch,
yielding sweetness,
sweetness and heat,
and in me,
each time since,
the answering yes.

Autumn

Again the wind
flakes gold-leaf from the trees
and the painting darkness-
as if a thousand penitents
kissed an icon
till it thinned
back to bare wood,
without diminishment.

And still we fear silence,
we who made our vows with sentences,
so many of them flowing on the tongue,
profligate of seed
as only short-lived things are profligate.

The mouth swallows peach, and says gold.