March 9

Fading light stretches before us in lace swaths of amber,
I have forgotten everyone. It hasn’t been long
Since faces escaped me. They ran
from sight, ghosted.
The cool breeze under theater seats. Public
places are always too cold.

We all jumped the gun on Spring. But how couldn’t we,
After feet and feet of gradiated snow, layers
of ice like quartz, and winds too biting
to be brave in. It wasn’t hard
to get one’s hopes up, and seeing crocuses
and daffodils for sale, well,
How could we say no?

Parks were sat in, sidewalks crossed to the sunny side,
Fuzzy dreams carried like expensive glass
and gingerly touched in the more shadowed moments of the day.
We all have a sort of deja vu,
moments of false premonition and imagined proximity
to the people we perceive to impact our lives, or any
kind of truth.

A. C. Cornell