september fifteenth, and i wake up trembling,
frozen fingers and weepy eyes.
yesterday was the delusion of summertime:
coarse as august, glossy and sweltering.
the season of highways and strolls through the park.

autumn is abrupt, october poured across my
pale forehead. it streams down my back like ice water,
heat fading from the concrete.
summer rushes like blood to the head, and i drink down
its pulsing nights, so sweet, so full. fall is slowness:
skin burnt by the cold, tattered leaves on the curbside,
and the warm blankets, holding me so gently.

Zoe Cunniffe is a poet and singer-songwriter from Washington, DC. She has previously been published in literary journals such as Velvet Fields, Trouvaille Review, Meniscus and The Showbear Family Circus, and she can be found on Instagram at @there.are.stillbeautifulthings.

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