Anger

I engraved my name on a vintage summer, 
On a beach I yet to visit 
Next to water I soon to spatter 
Covered with seagull's feathers 
There and only there my true being 
Stands 
And here only here I am wrapped bones 
With dusty ribbons. 
 
 
Nobody blames the sky for being so blue 
or the river for killing the Innocents. 
They don't miss the burning sun 
on a frosting day. 
 And I am a budding mistake that 
should never have been seeded. 
 
 
I heard all their voices; 
April and May and June.... 
And I felt the escaping of the Robin 
to a fangled east. 
as I got prisoned in an everlasting winter- 
 
While they are all meeting themselves and 
Everyday 
I still unshaped......, 
waiting for the pollen!