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