Thando Dube

A period of time between September and November 
Wrapping up the end of a year
All ingredients must fit neatly inside of the burrito of this uniquely American colloquialism. 
Things fall apart according to Chinua Achebe 
But somehow we manage 
To live the life
Of a story worth telling. 
In the time between September and November 
One year I rose 
Not like a rose from the concrete
Or like the Boa boa from the boa boa tree.
But like me. 
But who are we?
I whisper as I look into the River 
Before I fell in. 
But last season I learned to swim. 
And so hear I stand 
Basking in autumns midday sun
Like a black cat in a breakfast nook 
Taking a quintessential cat nap. 
I didn’t always like cats. 
But in truth I didn’t know cats. 
Careem found Kitty in October. 
Fall is the seasoning I put on my chicken that tasted like regret
That tasted like sorrow and despair and guilt and longing. 
Fall is the seasoning I put on my chicken that reminds me of my grandmothers veranda during the raining season. 
Fall is the seasoning that tastes like good reasoning and has an after taste of regret 
Fall is the aftertaste of regret 
Of a summer spent misremembering how bad it bent 
The last time my heart nearly broke. 
How long does a heart take to forget 
After the heart has been mended
That in order to be in love 
one must fall.