exodus

A Poem by Alexandra Morton

gossamer rose petals the shade of porcelain,
the spirit of juvenescence,
the smell of leather,
seatbelts searing to the touch.
the sidewalk crumbles into the earth.

it’s the exodus to the bright lights,
the frigid nights.
but he carries on
with a needle and thread,
despite the sore bones,
and cement floors.

he thinks he knows
the way of the land.
but eventually he’ll let go,
and he’ll never spend the night alone.
the lesson wasn’t learned the hard way,
because he’d already seen the others disappear.

the rose wilts,
and drips with venom.
skin glassy,
body aching,
and his pale eyes are looking
into the distance.
what hurts more,
the thought of the rose
disintegrating into ash,
or that no one will notice
it is gone at all?