Mai 20


My eyes paired in thrill and my
leg pulled to a crutch –
April has my heart too still.
Unsatiated murderous envy to rewind fireworks
and repeat momentums. But voices are stiffed and
my memory putrefies all the encores.
Such is the Spring of isolated minds –
Who waters plants no one could stool.

Spring as a frivolous rot –
Makes you reek of boredom and
wail infantile tears from your losses.
Rainbows to fade across every window of their bedroom.
My children never sleep untold.

What a horrendous day
without rain – without May –
never gay with the snow melting,
disturbed by the naked facts.
April has me in frills –
Geared up for June
and all its moods.

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