To March

Tea and patience
and tales that never bite their tongues.
I hold you in the underlined places,
those interstices of vagrant days.

It is only lately
I’ve begun to think the weather
is intentional, Inscrutable face,
the ides give you away.

I understand you
even better than April, Like you
I have a roar inside me
that hungers to be heard.

2 thoughts on “To March

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