on the pass over october

this rain is close to snow
thick like pig fat

when it rains like that in the early morning
cross a bridge

when you look over the edge
if the rain pelts toward nothing
that is the womb of god

sleep if you forsake her you can feel the trickle of life slowly leaving your body
there is something dark in our blood

it is the food of the angel of death
she skims this off and we wake refreshed