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DEATH OF MY ANNIE
I walked,
to beat out
the moments of throwing myself in front of a car.
I walked,
to mash out
my moments of outrage—
of how far you are now.
I walked to punish
the pavement,
for its smooth condition when
all is rough in my world.
You—where are you?
I see blood red maple leaves
Strewn on the sidewalk.
You—where are you?
I see my life stained
With your lost heartbeats—
gone is my soul.
--Dawn Marie Yankeelov
‘06
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