Rene Hunter [author’s site]
Autumn leaves have begun to fall.
Late October London is ablaze in
hues of orange and purple.
On my bench by the river I daydream
that I am an adolescent reptile
escaped from Kafka’s Die Verwanlung
laid back basking in the sun.
The air is layered in cologne,
men do not interest me now.
I am content to casually observe.
To my advantage I know all about them
while they know so little about me.
Thinking of you against my wishes,
dying a little, dead all the sweet hope
and dreams never realized, I imagine my
earthly body padded, sat beside yours
on a grassy knoll breathing in the scent of lilac
and the mossy green River Delta.
In the dark I am nude but for a shadow
across my torso.
You are so near and to distract myself
from this burning desire I let my thoughts
dwell among the lines of Roethe’s “In A Dark Time”.
Years pass and by chance we meet once
again, at the sad cafe.
I sway in your arms like a fragile birch in an
autumn tempest. The halo of my eyes glisten
recalling how we gave away what we never had.