A Universe of Leaves by Andrea DeAngelis

I spy a universe of leaves
what is under the ice in me?

Conversation suspended still
no more warmth to break the chill.

Autumn partially thawed
will never exist again
for you were right.

We construct
and deconstruct
our constellations of hate.

Until the maps of them
are plain
against our broken skin.



Andrea DeAngelis, New York, USA