The leaves change color overnight
or maybe it happens more gradually
and I don’t pay attention like how
you went from someone I knew to
someone who could take a life.
The evidence scattered across
the yard like memories. Remember
how we raked leaves into piles and
jumped in over and over again
until we were called in for dinner?
Don’t forget to clean off your plate,
place it gently in the sink. I said
GENTLY! Too soon all the trees
will be bare and I will be able to see
the city’s tall buildings again.
Five years and sixteen days, I am
no closer to understanding how
your brain shattered like a dry leaf,
all those jagged, yet dull, edges
blown in different directions, gone.
Rebecca Schumejda is the author of several full-length collections including Falling Forward (sunnyoutside press), Cadillac Men (NYQ Books), Waiting at the Dead End Diner (Bottom Dog Press) and Our One-Way Street (NYQ Books). Her latest book, Something Like Forgiveness, a single epic poem accompanied by collage art by Hosho McCreesh, is out from Stubborn Mule Press. She received her MA in Poetics from San Francisco State University and her BA from SUNY New Paltz.