Tanka for a Strange Season

April 3, 2011 § Leave a comment

Tanka for a Strange Season
By Adriana DiGennaro
 
The sun fakes gold and excess heat as if
it’s still summer, but she knows better, and
the trees know better: things really are dying.
 
She hides her head under the covers for
as long as possible before someone
gets angry at her. There’s nothing she can do.
 
She dreams of a shaman healer. Of her
red eyes the healer interprets, you have
allergies. She says, I have blocked energies.
 
There’s yellow and brown and red confetti
shimmering meanly in the yellow light,
rude and wishing everything away from it.
 
She goes to the outlet stores to shop in
October. She buys mom a gold compass
necklace and she gets herself a bag. Big deal.
 
These signs touting activities. It’s just
people taking some pumpkins and apples
knowing full well the end is coming for them.
 
Every morning someone wakes up at five
and seven and nine and never really
sleeps. And she wakes up to coffee but boredom.
 
Sex happens but boredom returns and the
ground is still full of what’s rotting. Those crows
still unzip the sky. The days get chopped in half.
 
And what a terrible thing to realize:
only the crows have laughed in these three months.
worse to wonder if she ever will again.
 
The torment starts in mid-august and doesn’t let up
until the end of December when winter
has thoroughly replaced it.

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