Photo by Pixabay on
April is the cruellest month,

I’m sure I read that somewhere. Once
the sexed-up violets sang and played
I went and drown myself in rain.
When water took me like a thief
I reached the dead land, underneath
a man’s height’s trouble, in the ground,
and fed the roots all that I am. Now
the trees are coming into leaf.

2 responses to “April is the cruellest month”

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