Poem: Fallen Leaf

 

Fallen Leaf

  

tiny flounder, lost from its teat,

postured in mud, doormat for rain.

 

its torn edges gape, or yell, maybe,

at whatever accident slew the mood.

 

black ribs mimic the frolic of fungus.

the rest an auburn daguerreotype

gutted and splayed by a spectral cat.

all day

 

 a waltz of shadows quibble

over the slick cranberry dapples:

whether the little age spots mock 

or honor the sun, its solar tears.

 

the leaf  doesn't care

about this lurid audience,

or the cranberry dapples,

or the dying papyrus they distressed.

 

mauled as a martyr,

without fanfare or even note,

the leaf settles to dissolve on its way,

slumping in leisure, fading into the soil,

as if coming home.

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4/27/24 

3/21 ... fixed another problem ... poem is finally 'okay'

3/19  massive changes  ... poem was awful before... might be still, can't tell ... rarely can

fixed typo ("doesn't care" replaces "does care" ...)