It’s been raining and it hasn’t.
Rows of grasses
glow with health so they look unnatural.
The glowing grass gives me a fright,
the only way to say
a long i of f up my spine.
I lock my bike, but
if someone really wants it
they can get it. Going inside,
two Camilla blooms,
gaudy and forlorn as Mme. Butterfly,
snag my eyes.
Camilla is a February bloomer,
the earliest bloomer, I hear myself
saying for the rest of my life.