Judy Kaber "I Crawl Out of March"

Poem by Judy Kaber on print of painting by Marjorie Arnett

 

I crawl out of March

 

the way the earth crawls from beneath the snow,

in desperate patches, still holding the remains

 

of last year’s leaves between thin blades.

Do I dare believe in that infant green?

 

I want to. I want to return to being kissing cousins

with the sun, to carrying songs inside my ears

 

while I big-step walk the track halfway to Unity,

past the osprey, abandoned ties, beer bottles.

 

March - a hard month - riddled with grief. I feel

as if I have been pushed down too many times.

 

Mud on my boots and ankles. Scrapes on my face.

The word “suicide” carved on the backs of my knees

 

where no one will see me bleed. Enough of March.

Turn the calendar. Let the green man stare at me

 

from the corner of his eye. Flowers touch his shoulder

and all around -- orange strokes haloed in yellow.

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