April Fools
It’s almost a cruel joke.
Fitting though, for April Fool’s.
Where winter is supposed to bring death,
and spring renewal,
They became the rebirth
fodder for the flowers of death.
He was scattered out back
among the carrots and cabbages.
She was buried with the trees
that she used to hike along.
A child stared it in the face, waiting
and smiling.
Spring had never brought death to my door
but today it scraped its feet on the welcome mat
turned the keys
and let itself in.
This poem is about:
Me
My family