The Urban Poetess

 

Sandals. No coat. Good hair.
Extra pep, in my step.
Is it spring?
Is that a thing?
Yep.

Increases to my daily dose of d,
Increases to my oxygen supply,
I am increasingly free.

Liberation is found in the tilt of my axis.

Pollen floats in the air.
My nose drips.
My eyes crust.
I don’t care.
A fine yellow layer like dust and
little pink petals coat cars.

No socks. Short skirts. Crisp shadows.
The benches and steps are full.
Pulled out of hibernation.

I am the sun dial,
Placing my feet,
Facing the glare.
I’ll stare,
into the sun,
squinting and squeeling.