frostbite

[rowens]

april cut into the city
in long fingernail scratches
of running water and suddenly brown gardens
and the air fell heavy onto the eaves
of houses eager to open their doors

i stepped out and spoke
into a space filled with spring
just trying to hurry things along, i guess
trying to warm the air
trying to clear the path
trying to make some sense of this transition

i stepped out, leaned forward
and spoke
too soon, i guess
because the mercury sank coldly back into the glass


It sounds mostly good down to this point.






and the rain became needles, the trees thread
threatening to sew winter back into the sky
and the air retreated back
into a dull winter chill
as if afraid of my open chest
displaying december's frostbite
and january's cold words


That part seems like something you could work on if you wanted to keep working on it. I have a few things I thought about. But you can think about it first, before I say anything I'd specifically change. 

and i apologized silently
to the city and myself
for thinking winter could be defeated so easily


The last part is kind of O.K.