Callan Latham

Three Autumns

The red bird is a throat

We spent more time apart than together

I think the mind is invisible sometimes

The leaves are turning gray, but only on Mondays

I would that I

And you are the best secret you have ever kept

Kitchen light, the pressure of velvet on the eye

To crush the neighborhood flowers, a pink selfishness

I swallow every celestial body

The spider in my bathroom dies three times over

The milk spoils in the fridge, you look the same

To the hidden eyes that hide their aches

I have set my own small punishment

The bricks realign on the street, beautiful