October dinner party

in dreams of October
the clothes we hung to dry
fill with wind
and come to join us at the 
dinner table
how lucky
we had already set their plates
and pushed over extra chairs
i do not feel surprised 
no one is ever surprised in October
and the dinner guests 
hold our silver forks and knives
just beyond their sleeves
i trace the roof of my mouth in fear
that the wind will grow stale of spice
and rush out through the floorboards
leaving our guests dripping off the 
chairs and onto the floor
silvers forks spilling cranberry sauce
onto the white pressed table cloth
we will fold our guests into neat squares
and smother them together with the moths
how unlucky
in our haste we skipped dessert
cooling pies beading onto the tinfoil
and we push their chairs back into the corners
like rooks on a chessboard
i wish we could have conversed with 
our guests
rosy cheeked and beaming
then led them to the door
holding tightly to their elbows
yet we can never seem to finish a meal
i strain inside
October is truly the hardest month 
to enjoy
you fall asleep in September
and you wake up discontented
with snow on your pillow



18 years old

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