by Trenten Johnson
there is something
about the first day of fall
whose leaves billow a swarm of butterflies
and land perfectly
no matter when or where.
2. Rains Come
Before the week of rain
stewed the delicate dusting of fallen leaves
each one a crumbling husk
into the shell of smashed pumpkins on the road a week after
You should have seen it then
when the wind danced with brown and yellow
and all life spread out nude and clean
under a rustling blanket in the weak sun.
A moment's reverence only
until the inevitable crushing stiffness of my boot
left the first mark of loss
an instant crumbled and left to fade.
If anything is left now of the world
made by that first stumbling change
it is dissolved in sodden grey skies.
Somewhere where no rain comes
the leaves are always fresh fallen
where I will not step again.
The leaves plastered wet to rust stained cement
could not be more perfectly placed
if God personally dictated
each individual impression.
Trenten Cox Johnson, 1982–2005, earned his BA in English with a minor in philosophy
at BYU in April 2005. He presented his original poetry portfolio at the National
Undergraduate Literature Conference (WSU, 2005) and later that year received an
honorable mention for the 2005 Ethel Lowry Handley Poetry Prize. During his time at
BYU, Trent was a member of FAD., the Forum for Artistic Discussion, and April, a
writers' group.This is his first posthumous appearance in Inscape. Trent would like to
take this opportunity to perform the Riki Tiki booty shake.