Late Autumn by Elizabeth Wilson

Late Autumn

I know your sister worries.
She thinks my illness will make

a nurse out of you,
that I have nothing

to give. It’s true
I suffer. You are certain

this will pass.

Today we take the train
north. I nudge you to look out

as rows of houses undulate
against the changing landscape.


Elizabeth Wilson is a tap dance enthusiast, chronic illness advocate, and Rising Voices of Narcolepsy speaker living in the North Carolina mountains. Her poems have appeared in Asheville Poetry Review, Clementine Unbound, Cold Mountain Review, and Trouvaille Review.

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