god damn spring, fight back or sumn

"When the sun comes out,"
we say
in voices tinged with
violet and yellow
Longing

A memory
My fingers blood-tipped
from picking
tearing my inside skin out
red poppies against a
weathered fence

Alleyway walks at midnight
balmy, we could've been naked
writing ourselves into
cautionary tales of
hags who steal the lilies
unless offered cool broth

Sylvia Plath spinning words
"these dreaming houses"
murmured spells as we take
the streets from the winter

Admitting we aren't brave -
"Sweet summer child"
you had said wryly,
we only fight our battles
in summer
Sticks and pine cones and
beesnest and honeycomb

Winter is no time for war
No time for playing
"Promise me we'll go to the river
one hundred times this year,"
Hold me to it.

I want to immerse and emerge
until I know no death
Until the cracks of ice have
softened into bitter
dandelion stalk -
Into tulips silky butter.

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