there's a burnt light creeping in the window
waking me when my alarm forgets
it kicks in the door, grabs me by the ankles
and lays me down in a pool of melted snow
it's spring
and I can't blame this angst
on the weather any longer.
Poem for Blank Page (or: Thank You, Mr. Harrison)
there's a burnt light creeping in the window
waking me when my alarm forgets it kicks in the door, grabs me by the ankles and lays me down in a pool of melted snow it's spring and I can't blame this angst on the weather any longer. |