This Swiss Season With Holes In It

Still seized by rain on
ways to work, our
loose city slabs frolic
ish you bish rain shh.

As tall doomlooking
men drip on the tube
o’er preened
german shepherds,

wet footsteps hiss.

What portion of light
left over— the invasions
, recessions & blonde
haired investigations

, were dim indeed!
barely enough to read
beneath we fumble
& fawn with wet hair.

These October petals
of step footwets!

See the taxis run their
lines; fine! we mirror
off shops look so warm
against this noisy earth.

& how could leaves interrupt
the reflection of summer’s
deadbellies, the audacity!

Or finally for up
to become down.

The water in my cat’s bowl is still
full. She is back, under
the duvet, the
primping French

pronunciation of autumn
body warming against
autumn body.