Our autumn was a quiet one

Our autumn was a quiet one

When sentinels bowed
in tandem, their leaves
and boroughs
splendid
drenched in the wet noon sky

Spry yet sunk within eye-sockets
her collar bone with
slight
protrusion

I stood as though a monument
as her footprints
bled along

The seething hiss of partisans
had muted in the pale breeze
its numbing pity, a tidal
roar

If I could,
I'd change our hearts to spades
and bury us
in Eden