Suggest we meet inside the library.
The afternoon, aflutter with children
downstairs, sitting Indian style to hear
a story. The college students slumped
across their carrels, pretending not to
check each other out. Aren’t hormones
gorgeous? Don’t you wish we could
still wear their great, embarrassing
corsages? For all of us are dying.
Fall is drowsing in accordance, agonal
and golden in the birch above
the courtyard. Come, and drape
your shadow’s pilled, unsalvageable cardigan
across the wing chair I have nestled in
to riffle pages. Come while no one knows
I am expecting you. For I can’t
stay long either.
Elegy in October
Frannie Lindsay
Frannie Lindsay has published several books of poetry, including If Mercy, Our Vanishing, Mayweed, Lamb, and Where She Always Was, chosen for the May Swenson Award by J. D. McClatchy. Her sixth collection is forthcoming next year. She is also a classical pianist.