"It has gotten to my head...

...permeates the path I tread."

"You are my sweetest downfall."

There's a double kick in my head.
There's a strong pulse in my chest.
I'm drawing hearts on fogged up windows.
I'm full of lovers struck by arrows.

Where is my hand-held mirror?
Where are my feathered wings?
Where is my sweet green tea?
I've lost all my pretty things.

I'm craving bleached teeth and strong mint mouthwash.
I've taken to ironing my skirts.
I'm collecting star-dust for my eyes.
But, Oh my bitter-sweet demise:
You're out tending to your plants.

Beautiful and bold;
You're watering your rose.
The April breeze seems cold.
But you claim, "I can't feel the blows."
Darling, I see every bruise.
From inside I'm missing you.
I've been folding all our towels.
And I'm scrubbing every tile.
The Earth's core heaves; it growls.
And you're ignoring every trial.

My dear Gardener, can't you turn your eye?
Oh Nature's lover, would you lend your mind?

You've so many distractions.
I've never been one of your flowers.
Look, Dear, see my collections?
There's your picture in every tower.

I'm a jealous fiend.
Leave your dirt,
Leave your spade,
Leave your bulbs,
Come play with me./



Come: You month of love,
You month of slush and sleet.

"Fevral'. Dostat' chernil i plakat'!
Pisat' o fevrale navzryd,
Poka grohochuschaya slyakot'
Vesnoyu chernoyu gorit.

February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring."