Poem 7

I might say,

I love autumn just as much as

I am afraid of it,

Of its coming and going, of its darkness and mischievous sun,

Gazing from behind the clouds,

Silver linings, they call them,

As they wrap the umbrellas all over their bodies

And as they put on fancy cardigans and fancier hats,

I love autumn and she loves me, too, giving me little presents every time

This year, by being split in another being, a miracle, I need to say,

That I am waiting with open arms and open soul.