Spring Mean

Leave my winter wounds alone

Mean, barren sun.

At the park

I let giggles slide on my skin

like bubbles

I lightly and heavily swim ahead

hoping they will not leave a permanent mark.

At home, I read about suicidal rates rising in the spring.

The perfect sharp shallow disc of the full moon

severs my heart fine.

It has been known for more than 50 years

It is a dramatic increase

of nearly 50% successful cases.

My photo.