The Autumn Rest
(From Between…)
Fall, changing of sheets.
Cool crisp linen replacing
crumpled sweat ridden ones of summer.
Weight of blankets, cloud-like,
snuggling around the body.
Night air refreshing the stuffiness
of the leftover of summer sauna.
The smell of pumpkin and spice
more embracing than flowers and green.
Slipping between the sheets,
body at ease. I struggle against the judgments of
others, remnants of summer past.
The cool sheets give an uplift of newness,
an ending and a beginning. A caterpillar at rest.
The bed chrysalis. I squeeze in tight
against the fresh silk sheets sheltering against
the onslaught of being of the wrong body,
and the lack of a community of protection.
I appear singular and capable of taking all.
Others’ lies pierce the skin of the outcast,
the wrinkled worm of summer. Hoping yet to emerge
the butterfly. To release the body
to the community of warmth, caring, solidarity.
The guilt of my body, the darkness lingering in gendered hearts
The guilt for all men, a guilt never escaped,
Punished for what I am and never wanted to be.
Punished for those I look like, never loved for what I am.
The silken embrace, protecting against the
bitter wind, the sharp knives of ice, the weighty slush.
Pulled in tight, lonely but protected waiting my time.
The leaves falling like my tears,
exposing the branches to the warmth of sun.
How dare we call the tree “bare,” less
its trimmings now less real.
The tree stands beautiful without clothes,
The strength and life solid exposed,
The leaves to the ground, discarded by the bed.
Blanketing the seeds of tomorrow
and those like me waiting yet for a spring of
renewal. Emerging from the protective litter
to the lightness of air, to the delight of me.
To a community of the sky, away from the blames
and slander. The snuggle of fall, the waiting out,
the unsoiled sheets a place of hiding until regeneration.
Molten cream atop the pie as a cloud
falling onto the fertile ground, holding a warmth
to keep the sleeping creatures safe.
Snow and clouds mirroring the need for rest.
The whitewash for the blues
and covering the scorched browning of the earth.
