Regarding a corpse
at the bottom of a ravine,
I wonder if it’s mine.

I wonder if as it tumbled,
sinews tearing like tissue
soaked in another’s tears,

it felt my pain. I wonder
if there is relief in not-
feeling, not-being: absence.

I see no headstones, nothing
to mark a life, to reveal who
the corpse belonged to.

Was it held hostage,
a bouquet torn from the branch
bleeding into its vase?

Did it find what it sought
at the bottom of a ravine,
or did it recall, too late,

the dog-eared novel, the unread
poems by the bed—how a body
can leap without falling?

Selected byKaci Skiles Laws
Image credit:Greg_FOT

Andy Posner grew up in Los Angeles and earned an MA in Environmental Studies at Brown. While there, he founded Capital Good Fund, a nonprofit that provides financial services to low-income families. When not working, he enjoys reading, writing, watching documentaries, and ranting about the state of the world. He has had his poetry published in several journals, including Burningword Literary Journal (which nominated his poem ‘The Machinery of the State’ for the Pushcart Poetry Prize), Noble/Gas Quarterly, and The Esthetic Apostle.