as if she could still write, she invites november

Three attempts today. Cuz in November, we poem. Even when we don’t feel like it.


as if made of some ordinary magic 

the sky’s a cauldron, 
shirred along the edges 
by some dark star-spell. 

We tell ourselves 
we’ll go home soon,
but the moon
has other ideas. 


as you wish 

(cue the pirate-prince tumbling 
down the hill)

upon all these fallen 
this broken sky,
i hope that you will 

i tried my tired best 
to follow that punch-drunk sun,
but i 
wasn’t quite as bright  
as you were. 


as she holds her breath before the next rain falls 

she calls herself 
something new. 

scatters stars, 
renames the moon. 


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2 Responses to as if she could still write, she invites november

  1. And three special poems! Fun to find Westley’s “as you like” here. 😊

  2. psyche says:

    The title of this post is its own poem. The idea of inviting [a lowercase] November just floors me.

    Other favorites:

    “i tried my tired best
    to follow that punch-drunk sun,”

    “she calls herself” … with a transparent hot pink light-up phone, I hope

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