The leaves change color overnight 
or maybe it happens more gradually 
and I don’t pay attention like how 
you went from someone I knew to 
someone who could take a life. 
The evidence scattered across 
the yard like memories. Remember 
how we raked leaves into piles and 
jumped in over and over again 
until we were called in for dinner? 
Don’t forget to clean off your plate, 
place it gently in the sink. I said 
GENTLY! Too soon all the trees 
will be bare and I will be able to see 
the city’s tall buildings again. 
Five years and sixteen days, I am 
no closer to understanding how 
your brain shattered like a dry leaf, 
all those jagged, yet dull, edges 
blown in different directions, gone. 

Rebecca Schumejda is the author of several full-length collections including Falling Forward (sunnyoutside press), Cadillac Men (NYQ Books), Waiting at the Dead End Diner (Bottom Dog Press) and Our One-Way Street (NYQ Books). Her latest book, Something Like Forgiveness, a single epic poem accompanied by collage art by Hosho McCreesh, is out from Stubborn Mule Press.  She received her MA in Poetics from San Francisco State University and her BA from SUNY New Paltz.