It’s amazing how you can make me fall in love with you again and again like a yo-yo on a shoestring, just waiting for the catch, the release of the spring back to whence it came
Tiger lily lips ripped open in passion, begging for a peach-blood purple kiss, flaunting their sex organs as if they were flowers, because that’s all they are really but
White-haired ladies prancing down the lane chained by wrists to shimmer-shivering griffins; cocker spaniels mossed over with the same golden disease that’s overtaken our concrete skeletons, sewn dancing limbs into our sapphire sky, embroidered birdsong into our cheeky wind that’s gone too soft to bite.
Well this time I’m not falling for it Spring
You can seduce grown men to unshell their skin before your midday altar, you can sculpt topiaries of bicycle brothers along the swiftly flowing street, you can bring your good friend April and her cousin May for tea and fresh-grass biscuits
You can lay for me a throne of sunkissed stone enclaved cleverly between branches just low-hanging enough to curtain green my lashes
You can whisper through the twiddle-twerts such fantasies as you can name a squirrel’s rustle-rushes fornicating with the brush
My heart you may overgrow with fairy-satin petals, I may sprout woolen caterpillars raining queen anne’s fleece, even dandelion seeds may roll down my cheeks like children down a grassy hill naked of rocks to stop them
Yes, Spring, you may even make me fall in love with you
But I won’t be so stupid as to give to you my love
With Winter waiting white-breathed in the crack between the French doors.