Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Poetry: Spring melt

I can see where
the sidewalk ends
and mud begins.

A watery cavern weaves its way
through ice-crusted ground,
and grass blurs green beneath my feet.

Winter and Lent both took too long in hanging on.
But hope is worming up around storm drains and gutters
where small lakes form,
my sneakers' baptism.

And my heart so long heavy
has grown white and feathery wings.
She runs off down the sidewalk,
a kid in brand-new converse,
crashing through puddles in a streak of red.
I'm chasing her down,
the pounding of my feet echoing
in the cavern of my chest.

Spring peeks its head over the corner of a cave.
Something is coming,
made of ash and dust,
and mud,
and fresh-cut palms and grass.

Roll back the stone,
and see.

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