W-When Shall Spring Return?

It’s cold outside 
it should be snowing, but it’s not. 
Each and every season fades into the world, 
leaving gray, wraithlike emotions-- 
haunting every year of passage. 
I cannot allow myself to feel 
anymore. 


My brain—hot 
especially when thoughts screech out, 
like ravens, trapped in a black slate box. 
A cacophony, which I’ve known far too long… 
since I placed silver nails, firmly, 
in those cedar, one way doors. 


My heart—tepid 
the moon waxes and wanes and re-cycles.

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