Autumn Leaves Me
written by: Lee Marcus
Breathless.
Thousands of people visit
these Berkshire mountains in autumn
and observe vibrant amber, scarlet,
gold wingtips lifting trees
into otherworldly, heavenly realms
above slanting, hazy, lopsided sunlight.
These masterpieces. Fodder for
a song by James Taylor or backdrop
to staged photographs of millennial fiancées
wearing matching black turtleneck sweaters
or even a poem or two.
The awe of self
destruction.
A carcass, bloodied and battered
rests on the roadside. Bruises
and breaks on its hind legs
and spine protruding from the neck line
like a sunflower stalk with precious
roots climbing down, down into
unearthly asphalt.
On the tip of this ivory bone, the one reaching up, up,
hangs a tiny leaf, still green or at
least not quite yellow, dancing to the
funeral march of cars not unlike
the one who did not brake in time
as they stampede past this angelic beast
and its sole flower. Pretending they are not
alone.
Bright lights of a screen sparkle
like a lake’s surface in midday sun,
even when a row of brown bodies
covered with white veils scroll past
eyes that don’t even blink and hearts
that don’t even flutter
past fists that remain unclenched
because eyes are already shut
and smoke has already risen
fogging up the glass.
- Autumn Leaves Me - November 9, 2024
