November Elegy by Aaron Deutsch

November Elegy

Last fall our feet wobbled across the dock

in search of new stars gone unnamed, 

like stellar cartographers romanced

by this in-between place –

somewhere that wasn’t land, wasn’t sea.

Here was the closest I felt to you,

by flame-licked waves, ghost rays

of daylight at the shoreline,

where the sun fell to meet itself.

But then, my dearest love,

Crab Orchard lake, green

like neon, swallowed you.

The night is only hoot owls,

starless and dark with the croak

of rust-colored toads.

I look out into the black murk

of night and think the sky

has been breathing on a mirror.

I shut myself in my car, windows

rolled up, and drive along streets

that sink into the crisp fall

of crow calls and frozen earth. 

Past willow-swept yards, heavy kudzu

and the red stain of maples.