It's Still Life

Conflicted

these are autumn’s dying days,
when my presence is a stain,
a conflict of colour with the sun,
when I am little more than
my shadow (it folds and fits neatly
beneath my feet),
and there it remains, constrained,
until I move.
or die.

for the marvellous Miz Quickly’s Dumpster Dive Based on the phrase “She listens to the dead men sing“