Autumn
The Brooklyn girls at The Fever
spill their Saturday sins on the dance floor
Stuff them back into big Sunday sacks
for safekeeping and absolution
Leave me standing alone
I think of you beneath the old, twisted orchard trees
picking up scattered crab apples, careful to avoid yellowjacket stings
Before we became the old, we never thought we’d be
Before we understood pain is a requirement, not some warlock’s curse
When we still dreamed and carved our love into bark,
listened to the Croton-on-Hudson short line whistle its nighttime song
But you left like golden-brown autumn leaves
falling on a dying vow
Left me standing alone
Even after we swore, we’d live and die together,
barter the crab apples with Saint Peter
for cigarettes and bourbon at the Pearly Gates
Ask God how much robber barons and missionaries
were taxed to get into heaven,
and if bells would really ring
when we got our angel wings
.
William Teets, born in Peekskill, New York, has recently relocated to Southeast Michigan. He misses New York pizza, the Hudson River, and Fran, Remember the Good Times ‘68. Mr. Teets’ work has been published in various journals and anthologies, including Ariel Chart, Drunk Monkeys, confetti Magazine, Shot Glass Journal, and Impspired. A collection of his poetry, After the Fall, was published by Cajun Mutt Press in February 2023.
Stone Poetry Quarterly 