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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