..

“The Cold of Late April”

The sky unzips its sweater, now,

Creating a haze I knew all along
To be part and parcel with my lymph node dynamics,
Come to tire
.
The caloric valves of the man-made forest
We drive by in petroleum apparatuses,
Hoping not to hear the music
Assembled stoically by the young trees,
The naive fruit doomed to a life sequestered by cell walls
.
When it is still fear the primary galvanizer
Of humanity, zipping
By on freeze omens.

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