everything else: march near-villanelle
dear internet,
this month all my letters stayed in the notes app. march seventeenth: maybe i only want to change everything because spring is coming, maybe one day i will look at the church spire and not miss the ladder that used to climb it, maybe nothing matters except the chaffinches picking through leaf litter and the crocuses like jewels scattered across the grass and the babies with ice cream smeared across their cheeks. march twenty-fifth: i looked out of the train window at the dry brown fields and the clouds low and filled with rain, and as the light leached from the sky we passed a fairground, neon-bright. march twenty-eight: an endless march, an uncommitted spring.
today i wrote nothing in my notes app, i replenished my antihistamines, i ate a frozen dinner, i thought about this poem, and i walked past a magnolia tree already turning green, and the people sitting underneath it, a carpet of petals at their feet.
love,
t