Anthology
By Taylor M., Charlotte, NC
There were those cardinals, those
Red-breasted gods of the trees
When she was 7 whose
Song kept her dancing
Circles around that disoriented
Body of love she knew only as
Mother
As the cold seemed insignificant
On those rosy cheeks
Wrapped up in a smile
But this comfort is thrown aside
Like a goodwill penny, once shiny and new
Amidst the heat and the bass
As all sincerity is lost
In the incessant pulse of the room
And chaos ensues from a mindless
Distortion of body
While she discovers this euphoria
Of everyone unknown
Of every misplaced permanence
And just when she thought it was all over
The blood, the sweat, and the tears
Out popped her life
All fresh and new
Waiting to begin again
This unrequited love
This sweetest revenge
A chance for compassion
She has never known
Her life was an anthology
A leap from one grace to the next
And now that those rosy cheeks are wilting
From the roots and their shallow graves
There is no one to remind her
Of all those bodies
She had loved and known
So another life passes bitterly
From one life to the next
Without the comfort of knowing
That she was never alone
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