April

ice in a glove
bluebells and cow parsley
dust in the corners of our eyes

early encroaching morning darkness
pregnant; an echo chamber

the trees were bare
shut out with finality
we took refuge in an
airless suspension

Upon a morning, a turn.
A heavy, cloying fragrance-
magnolia in bloom

arrogant, seductive, teasing
a terrible beauty.

As day gracefully took its leave
darkness would return, begging
on blended knees
a friend

transient solace.
The ecstatic blossoms never far
away, gratuitous
a strange vitality.

Sun spills through the window.
They drink their fill but we
hide in corners
speak in whispers with
eyes downcast

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