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October Love

"It was a soft October night,"— T.S. Eliot, from The Complete Poems And Plays: 1909 - 1950; “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

By Alexia VillanuevaPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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I have been younger in Octoberthan in all the months of spring— W.S. Merwin, from The Love Of October in “Migration: New & Selected Poems” 

Blue veins pop like grease from frying pan

From decaying hands to rotten flesh

Made of cobwebs of sweet strawberries

And pumpkin guts

Baked in pumpkin pies

Sprinkled with spice.

The October leaves dipped

In chocolate, red rum and murder

Crunch beneath skeleton

Like hands that dig

From chocolate soil,

Show blue ocean,

eyes in the form

Of clouds

Ring of silver and shine

Proposed in accidentical

Words of shame and pride

To a corpse bride.

A ghostly song wrapped

In blue fabric, carved in trees

By forgotten memories

Done by homicidal maniacs

Sprinkled in blood

And broken bones

Of green maggots.

October love

Becomes skull

Bottle of poison an

Corpse of cannibalism

Deathly song of blue

Butterflies becomes

Beauty in piano keys,

Silence in wedding bells

And death of kiss on blue,

Cold, undying gray lips

With hollowed out eyes.

Blue locks for hair, white

Wedding dress ripped

At the seams, losing color

From being murdered beneath

An oak tree.

inspirational
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