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Summer Can Sod Off!
The arrows of spring's rose petals have opened shadows
like thick and heavy drapes – the leaden
Midday just manages to stir at half-mast in the breeze
The eye of this season is a cataract blur, pale blue
And barely succulent
The whoring trees have redressed themselves
So unlike me and awkwardly, I must shed the black bark
To reveal white – and deceivingly pure – soft pitted branches
At the sun's mercy
They will burn, burn, burn
Without respite, and all I wish as my temples ache
Is for summer to quickly and quietly sod off.
Very nice
Very nice