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November Reckoning

A poem about change.

Photo by Isabella Christina on Unsplash

In this moment, the sidewalk is painted
fire by fallen leaves. What was cement
instead drains, hot water on clay,
chimera, some river.

My love will leave in three days.
I sway, purpled, to the pavement,
graceless, gawking, at a sky that is
all at once blue-kissed
and pouring grief.



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Rowen Veratome

Rowen Veratome

They/them. Perpetual student. Recovering from PTSD. Writes philosophy formally, poetically, playfully, politically, personally, with love, ad infinitum.