I’ve created a new emotion called autumn.
It starts in the mind, titillates the body
like soft electricity, turns the heart
inside out with a yearning for an ineffable
something always beyond reach but
so close to the fingertips, hands could grab
and pull it to the chest like a seasonal lover.
Autumn engenders limitless longing
in the pit of the stomach, on the one hand,
as satisfying as a delicious meal,
on the other hand, as unsettling as a quest
for the infinite. Autumn reminds me of
something I always wanted but could never name.
It makes me want to throw myself against
colored leaves as if that were part of the bargain,
immolation of self in exchange for boundless beauty.
In memory of an autumn day, I see forests
over-roughed, aflame with red like prostitutes
perched in windows, smoking cigarettes.
Suffocated with hunger for the unattainable,
I listen across the field, hear smothered screams
of wood and desire in the distant burn of a bonfire.
