Issue > Poetry
M. Nasorri Pavone

M. Nasorri Pavone

M. Nasorri Pavone's poems have appeared in New Letters, Harpur Palate, DMQ Review, Main Street Rag, Green Hills Literary Lantern and elsewhere. A graduate of the University of California at Los Angeles, she also writes plays and script analyses. She lives in Venice, California.

The Light Body of a Leaf

The leaves paled and fell
from the shedding trees like old wishes.
—George Garrett
We call them leaves in honor of their brief
and delicate departures. Compare them

to the body in traumatic convulsion,
moaning, leaking; the crushing

circle of the loved ones gaping, the squalls
soon after; then the struggle over the true

remains, battles over Post-it notes,
a swat team of lawyers brought in

to blowtorch a strongbox and referee;
the all-consuming ordeal of a single death.

The daughter watches the attendant wrap
her father in plastic before he's zipped in

like a thing. The gurney slips swiftly out
to the alley into the unmarked van. The trick

is to make it seem as if we vanish.
We do, but not cleanly, not as simply

as the brown leaf a breeze unfetters,
a palm-size kite teased home.


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