Tania Li ~ Autumnal Cycles

Tonight, in the mer­lot-stained cottage,
we hurl crumbs at the wildfowls
from cran­ber­ry-bruised windows—
we must be timely.
Candied apples, cream cheese, pump­kin butter—
we store pies in ceram­ic bowls
and bake in tar­tan aprons
with plea­sure & fear & pride.
The weath­er vane points North
as shin­gles dance with musky drafts.
Tonight, our knuck­les are numb
with pulp and the aro­ma of figs & nut­ty persimmons.
All codling moth­ers shun the snap,
and all chil­dren shrink in fetal instinct,
so we plait our hair and swill hot, mulled cider
with sug­ar cubes & nut­meg & cin­na­mon & cloves
by virtue of November,
and the bar­ley stalks sway in sullen sap,
and the fruit flies flock the sun-kissed cher­ry tomatoes
and the mul­ber­ry jam from the old mar­ket pleads raw and true,
cour­tesy of six quar­ters and a dime.
Still, the nee­dles tick, whirl and flit about
to Massanet: Pensée d’au­tomne on the rust­ed gold phonograph,
and I can’t stop laugh­ing & run­ning & playing,
and I can’t stop gawk­ing & gnaw­ing & plung­ing deep, deep
into rus­set leaves, smeared with the purée of lesioned pears.
The trol­ley departs on one-way wheels.

~

Based in Miami, Florida, Tania Li is a Chinese-American big cat enthu­si­ast and fan­ta­sy writer. She is drawn to bio­chem­i­cal research, but if she is not writ­ing or study­ing, you can find her sojourn­ing in dream­like lands. She is cur­rent­ly work­ing on her debut nov­el, Equinox, while pur­su­ing a career in medicine.