November

by Jocelyn Olum


from my kitchen window
I watch the trees let their leaves fall.
unbuttoning first outer coats and then pantyhose
red and yellow pooling symmetrically around their feet like discarded muslin.

trees are like victorian ladies
they never wear the same thing twice.
all winter I know we will kick up the decomposition of last year’s fashions
--branches unadorned like mannequins--
young debutantes waiting patiently for their spring-time cotillon.


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Jocelyn Olum is a student and a writer from Boston, Massachusetts. Her poetry has been featured in Red Eft Review and Blue Marble Review and is forthcoming in Eunoia.