Primavera's Promise

for S.R.P.

let me find in you
what I have lost
(fevered, wearied, turning the weather;
saline as sin. oh, the sin.)
turn my heart to springtime
without stain
and without agony
(cherry-bitten lips, titian,
and milk as black as midnight snow.)
and I shall teach myself
not to fear
(quiet the nightingales,
send my words upon wings)

« return to contents