Hobble Creek Review
Leaving a coffee shop,
stumbling upon death
A woman splayed on leaf-slicked
blacktop, her chalky hands and face,
like clouds, escape a sky-blue smock.
I saw no blood, nor steam from warm
blood crawling up the chill of the air.
But falling down were cold leaves,
leaves from various trees, to lay
a patchwork on the cooling body.
A man in a green sedan, face
in his hands, hands buried
in the cradle of the steering wheel.
He went to the woman, shooed
away leaves, touched her fingers
with his, waited for help to come.
We all waited, mired in death
beneath the spires and steeples.
I felt palpitations. Pressure swabbed
my throat dry, tried to escape
through ears and steaming rapid breath.
Doves and ravens, alternated tip-to-tail,
spun a ring around a blanched New Haven
steeple – faster and faster as sirens rang
louder. The centrifuge grew grey,
blended into the autumn day
when my blood-empty lips
sipped the scald of the cappuccino.

Steve Meador’s book Throwing Percy from the Cherry Tree, released by
D-N Publishing in 2008, was nominated for a National Book Award and a
Pulitzer. His poetry is widely published. Recent work appears in Prism
Review, Two Hawks Quarterly, Quicksilver. He has several Pushcart
nominations.