THERE IS NO JUDGMENT OF THE LEAF

   by Bates Corlieu		

there is no judgment of the leaf by frost
to whom she gives
her scarlet and chartreuse
no gabled sentence makes her take
the wind’s free ticket
for a carnival spin

just so no slap on the hand for us
unless our own heart’s clothespin pinch
says     NO
or the rain gabling the coffin lid
reminds us of sticky palm print maps
on bodies that weren’t ours to touch

still our own forgotten frigate
whirls away so easily
like these little leafy boats
that we let go in gutter floods
when mother called us safely home
to warm biscuits and plump pillows