Saturday, May 14, 2022

The Last Days of April by James Tate

The Last Days of April
Through the ceiling comes
the rain to cool my love
and me. The lime carpeting
darkens, and when we cross
to retrieve our glasses
of gin from the mantle, our
feet sink as into drifts
of leaves. We have a deep
thirst, for it is the end
of April, and we know that
a great heat is coming soon
to deaden these passions. 

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