the last days of winter

Evaporating into the past fast. Fixed like a dress soaked in salt. Like a date in last months calender. Like an equation. Like an election.

For a sum.

Iron me out and make me straight again. My lips are thirsty. My throat is blocked.
Rake me up and burn me in piles with the last of the firewood and other things you won't be needing. The days are getting hotter. It's true.

It's not just me thats burning up.

Reaching up to the water. I am planting phases of the moon. I am sewing myself into stiches. I am scratching myself into itches. I am stripping myself down to britches. These pictures are not for you.

Wake me up when I'm dreaming. It's the least you could do.