by Ann Hosler
Your mangled face was bared to the crisp January air.
Teeth and hair and debris scattered across the snowy road.
Thirteen may be unlucky, but those long years together
built a sense of trust and familiarity.
Loose chunks of pavement secreted beneath snow deceived
us as your feet stumbled over them.
In your final moments, you cushioned me in a burst of
white as our fierce attacker piloted into us at great speed.
Workers shoveled your guts onto a backseat that was once
home to children and crumbs and cats before taking you away.
The bruises took a month to fade and by then you were gone.
No better than scrap, they said.
We both knew it was so much more.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student