Elephant grass turns auburn in the wholesome cold
of October one. The month he’s due,
I took Temodar, once upon a time. In the fable, my father
boards an airplane for China,

never to return. Back home, full-bodied cherry tomatoes
pop off the vine and my Chinese wife tosses them
to the dog. My best friends have all been dogs.
While one snatches the red gush out of dry October air,

another leaves his wife, daughter, and unborn child
to take up with his mistress in Chicago.
By now it should sound familiar.
Yet I wonder where all the birds have gone

to hunker down, why only crows are left
to laugh at us, and why is it always October, the dust
in their feathers, that brings us face-to-face
with the worst in ourselves.

– Cameron Morse