The cracks of frost in the whitened planks
spell the end of one season
and the slow plunge into the next.
By the black pond, the dance
of insects grows sparse.
The reflections of bright trees
give way to the image
of slim drowned men who crook
the moon in their arms.
Even the spiders fade
from their threshold habitats,
gone into the deep corners
to die alone.
With no flowers to pluck
from the hardened loam
we buy cigarettes from
the hawkers down the street.
Their lit, crumbling ends
resemble so much
those piling drifts the wind hoards
in its house of trash and leaves.
Seth Jani lives in Seattle, WA and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). Their work has appeared in The American Poetry Journal, Chiron Review, Ghost City Review, Rust+Moth and Pretty Owl Poetry, among others. Their full-length collection, Night Fable, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. More about them and their work can be found at www.sethjani.com.
