I spent the summer
collecting leaves
of the most elegant decay
put them in a plastic protector behind a clear sheet
watching their colors fade
observing the cracks
and the holes that form
one leaf of a horizon-hue had a hole pierced right where a left breast would be
a gaping crooked oval —
the wind quakes the pit with every in and out breath
decay licks the leaf to a browned hue akin to my skin
I pick it up and move it sideward to hover before my face
and see how perfectly the
void fits around my iris
I bet that leaf fell
from a
barren tree
the one with branches so thin the blue sky glances
right through
the stem
closest thing to foundation
bends —
the same way branches
bustle by the winds
howl
decay slaughters the structure of what once was whole
that leaf
with the slightest touch crinkles to dissolve
