The perfect spring has been evasive, ever-moving
it will come in March – in April, in June; and I will
catch it, be a better person for the summer
be different if this spring comes, yet – it mightn’t
it isn’t a question of external seasons, for the flowers
have bloomed, for the ice on my beach has thawed
for the tourists have swarmed, descended
destined to dawdle and laugh and beg me
would you just take this one photograph?
but inside, though my skin is burning, though
the summer appears to all to have arrived
it is winter, my own personal winter, as I sit inside
and let the summer pass, again



Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “6.

  1. marotaylor

    I am crazy in love with everything you write

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