Autumn Leaves
by Matthew Beard
I. The Drainpipes
A handful,
Of soggy leaves,
Pulled from the drainpipe.
Rivulets of silt-gray water,
Pool beside my shoes.
The smell,
Acrid and distinct.
Crisp autumn,
Water-logged for three weeks,
Drip and decay.
I throw them to the ground,
And hear:
A rock being dropped in a bucket of paint,
A bird being hit by a plane.
Maintained or neglected, familiar or foreign, well-worn or wild, roadways inform our decisions and identities. Their geographies direct the movement
of our lives and sketch the cartography of our stories. In this spirit, 322 Review publishes provocative emerging and established artists whose fiction,
creative nonfiction, poetry, and mixed media artwork wander the paths of human experience. A nonprofit literary journal conceived
and operated by former Rowan University graduate students, 322 Review is based in Southern New Jersey.
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