Racoon

He was lying in the street
Looking like a sleeping prince
except for the two brown red streaks
that ran from his head
to the gutter

The sky would not be so dark
were it not for the clouds

But on that morning
it was bright and blue
And as I stepped out
from between two old parked cars
to jaywalk to the other side
I saw him lying there
like a dreaming angel
plump, with a faint smile
that enveloped his face

Except for the blood
that had dried upon his forehead

He lay forever asleep
upon the oil stained cement
Dreams lost
Breath drained

I felt nothing
that was perceptible to the eye
But my heart stopped
for a minute
I think I remember

The past lays cold and unfeeling
in the past
And we are stuck with
what we are stuck with

Studying my reflection
I become paralyzed by my silence.

© 2010~SophieD