Rachel Rutkowski

A bird rammed itself into
My father’s windshield.

It left behind feathers and
Splattered insides before
Bouncing to the next car.

                    We sat in stilled silence,
                    The wipers getting rid of the remains

There are so many remains…

                        The remains of the all the lipstick
                        That stuck to the cap when I shoved them

The remains of my soda cans
On your floor, after I snuck out one night.

                    My old shoe laces cut down
the middle

        they are gray now with dirt staining the seams.

Our remains of us
    In a park swinging
        With leaves falling around us.

                            I thought I saw you there, behind the tree,
    But then I remember.
            I am alone, here.

© Rachel Rutkowski