Spring, and the anorexics are in bloom.
From clavicle to clavicle they kind of sing
unstrung hostile expressions day finds favor in.
Spring. And insomniacs turn heroically human,
undream their eyes, defibrillate.
Which you would know were you not
so busy watching yourself:
the bad light, the excellence passing.
Cowardice is seasonal. Therefore you propose
marriage to suspect images of yourself,
with all your vacancies watching.
Therefore you must decline.