Foreshadowed

Artwork by Cris Valencia

It’s a polar bond, I explain,
my gaze locked onto flurries
grazing cherry blossoms

Recent arrivals
respond to outdated invites,
sent months ago

One by one return to sender,
non-sentimental prints stamped
dauntlessly matter-of-fact

How I’d love to be
bold enough to ask of you,
while cheek still soft —

Your warmth cloaking my bed,
how many snips it’d take
to outline spring

But your thoughts leave us
tending gardens of disaster,
and the horizon pales

In backs of hands
against her slap-less face

Acceptance lacks,
I reconsider relationships
in quiet hours of mourning

No matter which direction
the clock speaks, my chest knows
the distance between windings

Goings, and full circles
where we tail-chase
over all the fuss, weather