3/4 in a suite of seasonal poems
she’s bitter, and mean
takes away everything you’ve got
leaves you begging on your knees
you ask her for an answer, and she never comes clean
she’s cold wind and rotting leaves
she’s got plans for greatness
half-hidden up her sleeve
she’s going places, you see
so you listen, and you wait
her kisses sting like vinegar
and her breath gusts with hate
she’s worms in your apple
mold in your bread
and you hate her, and you love her
you dream her soft kisses and lullabies
you dream her gentle words and pastel eyes
paint her in oil, and watercolour
try out acrylic for a change; but you never get her right
she’s got a plan for greatness
and you’ll tag along for the ride
put your hand out the window
wrap yourself up in cardigan lies
there’s a knot in our blankets
there’s a knot in my heartstrings
she’s there and she’s gone
short days and long nights
windswept hair and cold feet
the draft, slipping under the door
the silence of midafternoon
i won’t miss her for long
in the creaking pipes and the leaking roof
leaves in the gutters and rust in the door
she’s here and she’s gone
and i don’t think i’ll see her around anymore