The Fever

10 Mar
ticklish at the root
spirals up the spine

the blue pill, a useless toot
if flaming all the time

the heat of spring's flowering
how to strike a match

if the go-to is glowering
it's the season to dispatch

spring springs like a tiger
hot with sweltering eyes

for the willing accomplice who
will rake open reddened skies

the lunar waves are lifting too
breakwaters smash and slide

no cure for spring fever
but to surf the tide

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Posted by on March 10, 2022 in Poetry


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