once dead skeletons
look silly cherry blossoms out on their tips
two more weeks before rain
falls and pinches
off their cotton
fingers
blossoms might freeze
to death, a wetter syllable leaves
these bones breathless
this thought I should
go with bucket pluck feeble
fingers before white patter wrests
zest. clouds forming horizon. what is imminent
like bones, no
thing except creak knuckles bending
under
�2005 by Ryan Laks
