Bob Tilton
September
A portrait falls from the wall
space still in the frame and eyes lost from canvas
You hung ghost stories there
That whisper of initials carved in chestnut bark
and summer's wreath thrown from branches high
This september song
this voice not what it used to be
But I'll say the words and wear your smile
I'll say the words and even believe them
And I'll hold your hand while you pierce my side
I'll hold on tight while you break every bone in me
The music stops and I have no chair to sit upon
I'm outrun and now I track your steps in straight clear lines
Found where you dropped your halo in the snow
Found an echo of you in an empty house
Where once we counted stars beyond reflection,
cut hearts from a cheap cloth and kept them safe for rainy days
Now I am outrun
and linger where the skin wear thin
Where first love plays games with penknives
I am naked this september
You steamed-opened envelopes this september
Oh this delicate skin.
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