October Carvings

Gray wings at the edge of a threadbare blue. A feathering that attenuates and denatures. Beneath somber clouds stone angels watch green granite deathbeds crumble in darkening dens. October slips through our eyes leaving no footsteps. We are unaware of its coming until we close those eyes tight, then under squeezed lids they glint starbright. Sea-deep into a restless night we may apprehend the faces of the bloodless as they seek some last verdant masks to cover their ice-sculptured features.