AvaClaire

in dreams of October
the clothes we hung to dry
fill with wind
and come to join us at the 
dinner table
how lucky
we had already set their plates
and pushed over extra chairs
i do not feel surprised 

I cannot fish but I come to see
whether the waves have a gift for me
to catch the creature the water stole
but needless of a fishing pole
tide rush in and tide rush out
a mackerel a herring a haddock a trout

What gives the island such lure?
The lone strand
flower-pressed onto the horizon
necklace of sand strung seashells
shoulders tucked bashfully under
the rolling green summer dress
cleanly cuts off at the water.

Dear old and forgotten child, 
You must have known
when you planted the apple seed
that it would not be yours to keep
You must have known
the rings would thicken 
in their own leisure
and the apples would come

I know when the wind comes,
with electric exitedment
flipping the leaves 
on their backs
like pale-bellied turtles
when the seamless sky
rots into a storm
in the west 
while the blue sits safe

Nothing to say
a cow wouldn't
kill you
lure you alone
into the field
stirring you 
softening you
with mismatched eyes
one pushing 
one pulling
letting the fence
wire shudder back
into place