Undo, Undone

They will not know

That the wine seeps into the cobblestone

They will not know

That it is late and fall

And all the needles have been crushed in the bitumen

She says to me

Never touch me again

In the late October evening

When the bruises on her fingers

Hollows in her teeth

Flesh carved in granite

Can be seen so clear

The leaves spin

                    In little tornadoes

            Round

                and round

    In the wrong circles

Ilford HP5. Umbrella Walkway, Vieux-Québec. Photo by me.