𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ━━ 𝚄𝚗 𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎

Spring Fever.

5/10/21

The crust of the earth is dank and cold.

The ice has thawed,
And the birds do not sing.
The meadow is brown, and the lake
Has boiled off.

Trout lay scattered under sun crisped scales
That have long since become dust.
When sun-bleached white enough,
Bones become pearls.

However, colour does not exist where I lay.
My slip is satin
And crunchy between my fingers,
And I don't think a washing machine will suffice.