Unredeemed and ill
From Breed's Hill to Charlesgate on the last day of March
We spoke for hours but Coolidge Park feels like another life
Regret and shame
The corners fold back, the pistil sags and bends
A vernal frost folds in to the wake of the year
Despite living here for for years
I feel I've never seen this city before
The harsh sunlight in the unsheltered plaza of stone
Ausonia