but when the Earth
tilts over
like a fat drunkard
falling head-over-heels
through vacuum
how can Spring
disappear?no,
Spring has packed her bags
and now she's flying North,
like Merry Poppins
...sort ofbut i guess Spring's umbrella
is made of flowers
maybe she has green vines for hair
or... insects in her brapicture it,
Spring travelling
like a slow-motion
shockwave,
contouring our
planet's waistlinehemisphere today,
hemisgone tomorrow
Spring wears a floppy sunhat
and, naturally,
her suitcase is plastered
with stickers
from Paris, London,
but maybe not IcelandSpring is always dancing
on some lucky patch of land,
there's a villa on the equator
which she
co-rents with Summer
though Summer is always
late on his pay
and spends too much time
lounging on the Sahara
like a dormant lion
with yellow volcanoes
for eyes.Spring never leaves us,
she's torn between pleasing
two sides of our wet rock --
only we can leave Spring,
burying ourselves
in the soil,
although the flowers
still sprout to
greet her arrival
each year.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/83246744-288-k814694.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]
Poetrymy keyboard is a minefield. my mind is broken glass. when my body bursts apart, the shards catch light and look like blinking stars. ( 1 year of poetry )