May in Massachusetts

May in Massachusetts
by Chloe Honum

A pair of boots, hanging by their laces from a power line, swings in the cold

breeze. Beneath them: a blue pebble, a ring of ice, figurines of snow–

things left on winter’s shelves. Today, I have boxes to pack; dust, dirt, and

dead flies, like black asterisks, to sweep from the corners of the apartment;

a set of keys to leave behind. Spring, where is your heart? The year is five

months old and already its skin is torn. Spill your tonics. Raise your needle.

Hummingbirds wait to fly backwards through its eye.

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