--shall April be the cruelest month?

as that praying mantis poet Eliot proposed--

to begin with implosive foolery.

sagging rains that will shatter stained glass

windows, to reveal another station, of

another cross.

forgetting to joke about dead-seriousness.

the air will carry roses flustered by the

bloated piety of clouds,  soaking the earth

for worms to break surface.

stirred crazy into beaks that glut, then sing.

more than arthritic bones, the forever growing

pains of a scowling soul...ah April.