i have a dream where i stand by a ditch,

a pond of rainwater next to a highway.

the water is crowded with buoyed fish,

their bodies decomposing, 

pale and forgotten.

i lean down, look at them, their

yellowing eyes wide & shiny as quarters –

do you think they died with mouths open, begging? 

their scales gleam with the pallor of death,

and i think they say,

you will end up just like us. 

you will decompose just like us. 

you will hurt in life and someday,

someday, you will die. 

i leave them there unburied,

floating in their rot like a lavender bath. 

the rain pours down on the highways, 

air heavy with the thick scent of exhaust.

i catalogue roadkill like old coins; 

my parents taught me to never swerve, 

never sacrifice myself. 

when they stepped out on the road, trembling, 

squirrels and raccoons like endless mercy killings –

do you think they knew they were about to die?

they think of the apathy of my white SUV, 

and i think they say,

you too will end up like this. 

you will be underfoot and defeated. 

your life will hurt, bitterly,

and someday, you will die.

the coyotes drag them off the pavement at dusk, 

snapping rabbit spines like wishbones.

i collect mementos of pain like precious things –

prayer cards, rings, the loved things of the lost.

i played head archaeologist at the dig site as a child,

as if i could discover the dead 

in a playground sandbox.

when they scatter ashes on the gravestones, 

like silver rain upon the crumbling markings –

do you think the bodies below roll in their caskets?

my grandmother sits, hands clasped in her lap,

and i think she says,

you will die, because everybody and everything dies. 

you will struggle and suffer and ache.

your life will hurt, and someday it will end. 

but does that mean it was not worth it? 

when the angels come for me too, someday, 

i imagine they’ll have kind eyes and arms open wide.