413 E Cherry St.

413 E Cherry Street

Snow begins to buzz into the sifted evening
You remove your shoes at the door
Billie Holiday’s album cover is orange
She      sings beautifully

You water the ferns in the nude
Long curls flick your parchment skin
You sway near the brass-colored couch
I am the voyeur who lives inside you

For a discount this fall
you bought a pot of red mums
as the colors of summer buckled
against the descending weight of autumn

Now our color is the orange
of low sodium streetlights
casting shape in a blizzard
The mums are dead

Inside the lights are on
Our town
is a dark town at night
with an observatory on the hill
that we could see from here
if we had shut off the lights

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