shot glass
Issue # 7 May 2012
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Sonja Johanson

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Spring, When We Have Moved Away

This feels more like late April,
Maybe even early May.
Where I'm from,
March doesn't ride his Harley
Down the empty street,
Bringing you a swath of pussywillows
Or a handful of yellow and purple crocus flowers.
He doesn't kiss you on the neck and face
Until you take off, first, your wool sweater,
Then your turtleneck and bra,
Leaving you in the backyard
Out of sight of the neighbors,
Sun warming your winter white breasts.