Poem: Ghosts In the Leaves

 

Ghosts In the Leaves

 

dangles of pirouettes,

shawls strewn over invisible mouths

which once writhed in battle.

 

venules who once were sinews,

the lunged flesh far too young,

fury surged to flutter crimson--

 

legions of them, these waving flag,

acute for a slashing season or two,

before congealing in a garden of rust.

 

silent, then, as rot 

to feed those memorials risen above,

the branches of statuesque oaks.

 

every autumn more lobes drip,

laying their own vanguard colors

across a graveyard of whispers

to testify in the breeze.

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7/21/24 ... changed some words, not going to be a sleek poem ... 

2/13 changed some words

2/12 ... changed some words