november’s end

she walks along the forest path lined

with mushrooms the color of trees’

blood, sap dripping in amber

hues that are golden like the sun that

shines through spots in the leaves and

her hair flows like the orange river that

cuts through dying leaves the color of

earth and blood and fire and

she smiles, knowing that the end has come

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oysters

when they say “the world is your oyster,” do they mean

i can pull it out, screaming,

from its shell

or use it to mass produce a milky white pearl

that will sell for hundreds of dollars one day?

 

do they mean i can exploit it,

dig it from its watery safe haven,

put it up for auction,

people’s faces pressed against the glass, saying

“this one, this one will do”?

 

can i collect a whole galaxy’s worth of people’s oysters

people who just left them there in the dark depths

of the ocean in space?

can i cook them all up or eat them on the half shell,

my lips stained with the tears of their inhabitants?

 

i think i’d like to make a pretty penny

off these oysters,

if i can

just to taste

the salt of emotion again

 

Oysters $20 a pound

Oysters! Get your oysters here!