Your Mother's Quilt

Another summer rain
trickled over the stain and
sent me steeping
into older kettles.

Another severed season,
August themes stir
autumn dreams
that will fade into winter.

The changing leaves brought us back
with stained socks and heavy breath,
that raggedy couch our sanctuary
sacred exchanges beneath your mother's quilt.

Another evening storm stained
my transparency white, like
the paint under my fingernails.

Another fated fall
left its mark,
on the only part of me
that is brittle and clear.

(photo courtesy of Concrete Cowgirl)