Change of season:
This trapdoor
of anger
Hangs loose
Unlatched
The winter
fearing retribution
Wraps up its
bundle
Children now
begin to wear
The slight
sweat on their skin
In between
A cat in a rigor mortis
Stinks up the
boulevard of pansies
The tightening
of the jaw
Accepts the
loose anger
Like grace
The body now a
blade
Prepares to cut
Through the
conceit
Of an impending
summer
