A garnet sun arose and bled
until the field in early morning
blazed up like poppies, but I've read
such glory means a weather warning,
and soon enough the clouds boiled in,
turning the sky to sheets of tin.
All day the sun hid from the rain
which pounded with relentless hooves
on awnings, cornices, my brain,
knocking slates off all their roofs.
Spring kisses, then withdraws her kiss,
and April always feels like this,
despite the crocuses' new shoots,
the chattering of the nesting birds,
the green things spreading at the roots,
and all the optimistic words.
Migraine-heavy, time goes slow.
Burn me up or give me snow.
Anna M. Evans’ poems have appeared in the Harvard Review, Atlanta Review, Rattle, American Arts Quarterly, and 32 Poems. She gained her MFA from Bennington College, and is the Editor of the Raintown Review. Recipient of a 2011 Fellowship from the MacDowell Artists' Colony, she currently teaches at West Windsor Art Center and Richard Stockton College of NJ. Her chapbooks Swimming and Selected Sonnets are available from Maverick Duck Press. Her poem, Straight Talk," appearing in Kin is from a chapbook, Saint-Pol-Roux & Other Poems from the French.