Ten songs for children no. 3 “The Summer”

We’re quick to forget the winter, see
March grow up, fill out
Gaping maw of rowed-out teeth
Only a week and a half back, now
A grey pan-handled woman scritching –
“Gash that evening gaze! It curls
Nip-lock heat bites skin”- and
“Quick, black fish! Huddle slick and tight
And take your pick from my feet!”
Hemlines creep, a guignol curtain
Your thighs
Are not those of last summer, those
Spreading Charleville trees.
Turn the oysters in their beds and
Soak them in cider, girl.
We’re too quick to lose the winter,
March is butchered, dried and hung
While a hundred children kick the heads
Off a hundred thousand forget-me-nots.
Suddenly, we are cold.
Suddenly, we are old.

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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