November, when the monsters have gone back to the shadows, the witches have gone into hiding, and Winter draws back its teeth. This is the month of survival, gratitude, and of course, poetry.
To celebrate its contribution to the year, and to welcome December, here are a few of my favorite poems from this month.
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Anxiety
I must guard my heart from your teeth, Anxiety.
I feel your canines scrape my nerves, fraying my reality, and I must confess,
it would be easier to let you take me.
But, my heart is stubborn, beating against your lies,
and I must save her from your chaos.
She deserves calm days.
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Alchemy Fodder
I breathe in the November rain
and close my eyes as the droplets sluice my phantom pangs,
shrouding the scar and giving it its shape.
I am haunted by physical touch; hands that pushed my hair behind the ear,
lips that pressed their kiss into my skin too hard.
I was a rabbit, and he wanted to tame me.
He twisted daisies into a chain and shut out the moonlight
and he told me the dreams I should have when I slept at night to complete his fantasy.
I stare up as the rain falls down on me,
wishing on each drop as if it were a star, bleeding fortune into me.
The tragic try to make up rules for magic,
they reach out to shear their timeline from reality, to smear faces, to turn back the clock. Once the sands fall, they are seeded, no matter how many tears pass over them, you are just polishing over the memory.
I breathe in the decay of leaves that hang in the mist.
I am a donor to the alchemy of Winter, not of my own accord.
He took my feet for luck, a last stitch effort to keep me from slipping through,
and now, my bare bones ache for the Sun.
I was a rabbit, wild and free, romping with the Moon in the meadow.
Now I lie awake at night when it rains,
wishing over the percussion of downpour punctuating copper
to break open and baptize me.
I am holy from my emptiness,
I hope it is a good Spring,
I am tired of wilting flowers.
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For the witches that survived October - Part One
Suck in your ribs, and tuck your hips behind the oak trees.
November is coming, and she is with the men that stalk the woods
with their torches held high, sculpting out their sallowed faces.
Poor heroes, they have gone feral to burn maidens,
starving from the purge of October,
their wide pupils shining with the lashing pageantry of the pyre.
Follow the crows, and come with me, this is no place for a wild thing to be.
Rouge your cheeks and tie your hair,
we will evaporate like the leaves twisting through the air.
(To read the second half of this poem, click here)
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Pyre
Burnt orange, a love letter engulfed in flame that dances on my tongue,
Burning my throat with words that will fall as ash down my throat.
Phantoms of your love extinguished,
never to be breathed into existence ever again.
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Thank you for tuning into November’s Recap! What was your favorite poem? I would love to hear in the comments below.
You can see the poems I will post throughout December over at IG @ enis.st.sparrow. See you there!