November Liz Durrett

No shadow, no stars
There's no moon and no cars
November

It only believes
In a pile of dead leaves
And a moon
That's the color of bone

No prayers for November
To linger longer
Stick your spoon in the wall
And we'll slaughter them all

November has tied me
To an old dead tree
Get word to April
To rescue me

November's cold chain
Made of wet-boots and rain
And shiny black ravens
On chimney smoke lanes

November seems odd
You're my firing squad
November