Thin by Holly Cross

Cigarettes in Fall

are little death rituals.

The paper on your lips

helps you become part of the decay.

With each breath

I am becoming more thin

a wrinkle of cloth stretched out to smooth

and then stretched some more.

October is between times

like dusk and dawn

awakening and falling asleep

birth and dying breath.

We reach into the past,

through the veil as it wanes,

to seek out what can't be seen,

what can't be known the rest of the year.

Holly Cross