Dark Autumn Hour by Matthew Milia

Anne, let’s die in some dim town
My brown eyes wait to weigh us down
The candles around the tub will drown
In our afternoons

Music from our evening parlor
Darker than the autumn hour
I gave my child twenty dollars
For tearing at our moons

Dark damp men muddied our house
In my dreams to bleed your blouse
I smiled from my sleep to douse
The horror of this hour

Our boy on dark hills blurry crawling
His rain-glazed shaking porches falling
The homes of all his friends just sprawling
Withering like flowers

Anne, I’ve loved you from a boy
No other autumn could destroy
The town our winds fused to enjoy
Whispering dark farmlands

Tearing moons, these moons are tearing
Swearing terror inside their daring
Crumbling prayers, dark autumns faring
Straight out of our hands