Friday, April 11, 2025

11 April 2025

Winter was made 
to hold a space 
between autumn and spring 
to buffer the pain 
and take the blame 
 
But winter, it turns out, 
muffles the quiet 
and the little death of time 
with his own heart, buried 
gale-force fragility in white, falling 
over everything 

And while there still appears 
an invitation to the spring formal 
in his mailbox every year 
he stopped attending long ago 
finally understanding it was only 
an artifact of a polite society 
which had also been stranded 
holding a space

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