Nim
The Order of Things
Arm in arm
A pale March takes up green
In succinct strikes,
Wavers on the edge of returning
And pushes itself,
Wet into April.
The months in their procession
Around the turning wheel
Do not yield last years promise.
This is new. It stings.
Before did not hold this flavor:
Now tastes of nettles.
Sweet juiced brambles.
Marzipans. Gunpowder.
The Romans sought order
We maintain the remnants,
saturnalia discarded but our
sixth day maintained.
Earth. mars. Jupiter, Saturn—
We respect the order of things.
(Breakfast preceding most
world changing events )
Nim currently lives and writes from Northeast Ohio and runs the page nimityonline. Her debut poetry collection is available for preorder through Dashbook.fr