Poetry on The Mad River
Roadkill
Poetry
“You’ve always had the power my dear,
you just had to learn it for yourself.”
―Glinda to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz
It became roadkill long before
we swerved the car not to hit it.
In my head I said a silent prayer
and held a sacred moment
to honor this unholy desecration,
this passing and I almost stroked the hand
of the innocent one beside me
behind the wheel.
I sat beside those steady hands,
we’ve known each other far too long,
me feeling drip dry from not taking
any more merde said in mock humor
an easy decision
like boiling water
or making ice
to not let him or anyone else
get away with any more
petites merdes
since everyone who knew me
seemed to mistake my silence for weakness
not realizing I knew all too well
the dangers of being a target,
of being mistaken for roadkill
or collateral damage.
Sometimes in the name of love.
Insidious uncaged love
can be an anchor or an anvil
a life preserver or an albatross
in the raging, recalcitrant river.
They say knowledge is power
once Pandora’s box has been opened,
live and learn,
I know it now,
while the silent moon and the petulant stars,
the mad river and the tangled clouds
knew it all along.
© Connie Song 2024. All Rights Reserved.
