April 30, 2014


The chill rain covers my face like a cold sweat

As I struggle to make my way through the park

Named after the man who made the city of my birth,

Limbs just alive with buds ready to burst

Sagging overhead, the tip of each dripping

Bits of clear liquid and reflect some deep

Drip going on inside of me

This is always the best and worst of the year

For me, a time when change intrudes

And forces itself on me, consuming me

Making me ache inside and out,

Pressing itself against me, chest to chest

So that I breathe in what it breathes out

And so that we linger in a perpetual dance

Neither of us can escape, nor want to,

Regardless of how we penetrate each other,

My breath steaming by the time I reach

The gap at the other end, and my hips

Aching from the effort, leaving me

As if I have been stung by bees

That have yet not emerged for the season

With the stinger still deep inside

Of me oozing.

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