Alyse Knorr

Contrition: November

The fucking leaves again! Surprising and
inevitable like a very good story,
which is what the world is. Like how they’re called
leaves since that’s what they do. Every day we 

crunch through the new dark with our arms full of
everything, then try to stuff it all down
into a lawn bag—all that won’t be con-
tained. How I made my daughter cry, shooed out 

the bumbling kitten who, like all babies,
meant no harm. All my misspoken words piled
in a pile, each curled brittle at the seam.
And who to absolve me but my beloved lost beloveds? 

The ones always watching from the thin edge
of the yard, the night—from anything with an end.

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Alyse Knorr is a queer poet and associate professor of English at Regis University. She is the author of three poetry collections, a non-fiction book and three poetry chapbooks. Her work has appeared in The New Republic, POETRY Magazine, The Southern Review, Cincinnati Review, The Georgia Review and ZYZZYVA, among others. She is a co-editor of Switchback Books.