All along the Saw Mill River Parkway,
a season turns inward to meet its operation:
pumpkins spawn muffins, lattes,
globes of yellow mums line driveways,
a Revolutionary War hamlet stolen in the 1600's
for a cache of blankets and wampum,
once filled with baggage and artillery wagons,
cars commute to and from New York City,
a black mustache drawn at the Hudson's mouth
to catch in-bound traffic from free-falling.
Maples wrap branches around my rib cage,
a trap of orange and gold leaves filter translucent light,
and like an unsuspecting moth, I'm sucked in,
walk along the Croton Reservoir without a map,
later drive my sister to her doctor's appointment,
a drunken doll, one leg stutters on the kitchen floor,
the other from a knee replacement;
she's the oldest and now titanium,
goes to physical therapy at rehab
where aluminum walkers spell doors open.
Today our middle sister has placed her husband in a nursing home
fighting the battle of guilt and loyalty, for years
in paralysis until she flattened her ant hill with sparrows.
This morning Patsy did my hair, her twenty year-old son
somewhere in the Middle East, which is to say I'm drifting down,
waiting in line to pay for a 300-capsule jar
of fish oil at the CVS register.
A man ahead of me can't find his debit card.
People Mag says a certain movie star can't wait to become a mom.
Milkweed pods along the roadway spew silk seeds.
LENORE WEISS completed a Masters Degree in Creative Writing at San Francisco State University. Her work has been published in many journals including San Francisco Peace and Hope, Poetica, Technoculture, Carbon Culture, BlinkInk, The Portland Review, La Más Tequila Review, and Digital Americana. She serves as the copy editor for The Blue Lyra Review. Books include: Cutting Down the Last Tree on Easter Island (West End Press, 2012) and Two Places (Kelsay Books, 2014). You can find more of her work at www.lenoreweiss.com.