Poem: ‘Summer is Despair Season’

Autumn come now and come quickly to me,
Drop my red flesh like leaves from a tree:
I will lie where I fall like an apple decaying.
Believe what the words of this poem are saying.

Winter come bury me under the ground
Stars ping the turf with your cold ultrasound
Let shadowy pictures be sketched in the sky
Of the curious posture in which my bones lie.

Let come no new New Year. I do not deserve.
I have sinned against hope and blasphemed against love.
If spring was transgression be winter forgiving
For I have done wrong and am weary of living.