Poem for Saturday, October 26, 2013

Message

She left with the blood-red leaves
of autumn, whirled out the door

in the same wind that took them.
Outside, the sun tears through

the naked maples with branches
outstretched like crucifixion, like

something beautifully broken and
tinged in the gray of surrender.

Inside, everything still functions.
You notice things like how loud

the wall clock ticks, how the
table has become amassed with

plates and cups. She left one last
ring of coffee there, inches away

from her napkin, as if to say
this is how it must be.