On the day of your favorite color

Here is the day of pumpkins,
their hollow heads lit and leering. Here
is the stripped sweetness of candy corn
cupped in my hands. Here is fall
swirling the leaves into a storm of red-
gold fire. Here is the sunset,
shorter now. And here is memory,
spilling from its orange coat:
your mandarin sheets, your russet
couch, kisses the color of burning.
Here is the day of heartbreak
ripened to glow. Here is the day of ghosts.

Lauren Kizi-Ann Alleyne