Ostara

Clawed my way into the world
two months too early
and a day too late
passed Spring Equinox on the sidewalk
without meeting her eyes
chased the tail of her dress
and it slipped from my foot

Hellbent on symbolism
from the first yawn
impractical packer:
– too-small suitcase
– undeveloped enamel
– half-inflated lungs
– the wrong kind of jacket

The breeze rushed past
on pointy leather boots
white and black candle flames
stretched up right on beat
calendar flipped to the 22nd
and I am always an inch too late
drilling a hole in the wall
to let the moon sneak in
ending up knocking the whole thing down

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