roadkill

isn’t it sad? 

she lived a  

beautiful  

short life, burning bright and brighter still until  

she was extinguished 

in a heartbeat.  

a car horn 

a blur of color 

and her flame is out forever.  

it’s soft 

half buried in waves of grass 

on the side of the road 

a peaceful existence of continuous mourners driving by. 

they come and visit her 

feel sorrow as they pass 

and they think about her for a few 

of the white lines in the middle of the road 

before their attention is drawn elsewhere.  

poor thing, they say 

and then they forget. 

her limbs are settled in different directions 

chest open to the sky 

for a deity to enter and take her soul. 

the leaves and bugs settle over her like a blanket 

soft and warm 

protecting her from the harsh cold of the night.  

the stars shine and blink out – 

her mirror 

and she would be watching them if she could see 

out of her glassed-over eyes. 

they’re foggy 

like a cool autumn night 

their depths hidden by the shroud of clouds. 

eventually  

someone stops. 

they mourn her for a minute more 

than their companions  

stopping instead of still driving 

poor thing except it’s on repeat now 

out loud, she hears it  

and then they drag her into a field of flowers 

streaks of a deep red left behind 

on bright, colorful leaves and petals. 

she can rest here 

they think. 

she has never been handled  

that gently before.  

the blood is matted in her fur 

color of a sunset 

crimson that will be there momentarily before it’s  

gone.  

there’s a sliver of white  

showing through the sunset 

a bright sun that attracts the birds 

like moths 

and they circle around her in the sky  

until they determine that she will not be moving again. 

they dive. 

she lived for others 

and now in death she does the same.