By Meira Christine
It’s that time of year.
Rhubarb’s in season,
Spring fevered
Feminist movement
be damned
I’ll make pie
If it pleases me
And chase men, too
No promises of pie though
Fork you!
Really serious about
That.
Just thankful the foolery of April is
Done with
And all of that
You-know-what
Bring on the season
Of quarry diving
And waterfalls
Mossy glens
Jazz festivals
The buzz of mosquitoes in your ears
Campfires and the stars
In the velvet night.
Do you think it’s okay to take that
For granted or is it all an
Impossible dream
And I should just clean the plate I have
Right, now and
Lick my lips?
