The Purpose of Seasons

 

Five years feel like one

the purpose of seasons

sharpens like edges

 

of a tanker when

September fog burns

off the ship channel

 

Winter’s sterile needles

inject opiate charms a

 

subterranean clicking

builds to insectile

 

swarming piercing

skin releasing

dragonflies into the

bleached stadium

 

of summer then lights

flicker and fail one

 

at a time and the project

disintegrates like dry

 

leaves cracking underfoot

 

The rotation jangles

in the blood stretching

 

perception adding years