Tuesday, May 5, 2020

I hate spring

April, you're the cruelest:
you flirt your frills at us

your daffodils, your narcissus,
your tulips. You sweet lipped

sass. We've had enough of
you, sprinkling your glitter

threefully, gleefully,
our eyeballs itch with it

you giggle at our sneezing, you
slip breezes at us sweetly

as if we'd smile through our misery.
You tease. Too fecund

floribundant. Spring is
tyranny. We itch and weep

admire your ruffled twirls.
We've had enough of  this

soft torture, this lovelines.
Of all the spring months, April is
the springiest.

i feel

snakes in my throat,
their muscled thickness warm
in my mouth, pushing,

i will spit out snakes

my snake full throat is
revolted
like when a foul
sweetness curls
its thick self
back
behind my tongue

I would gag if I could
close my throat
but there are snakes
in my throat. I could
open my mouth
let them slide strong and
smooth scaled
out

i could
open my mouth

glass would fall out
and cut up
the world into
thin slices

i would taste my own blood:
metal, electric

my mouth is slippery
cut up
i could spit glass

at