October Maple | Poems that Suck

 I never noticed before,
        but
          there's a maple tree
             just outside my window.
                 I can see it as I 
                     soak in water that's
                          so hot my skin should melt. 
                        Its blood red leaves
                     are nearly gone,
                   limbs bending in the breeze
               and I wonder what 
              what it must feel 
             like
           to be stripped bare and
          have the wind rip 
         through me. 
           I imagine it would slip
             through
               the spaces between my ribs,
                 maybe curl its way around
                    my age widened hips,
                      creep in where my eyes
                         would have been,
                            or that space between
                                my teeth that's always 
                                  sensitive.