Poem for Spring

Kristen Orser
i.

So often we only see the bud
and miss the day
of blooming.

ii.

Our days are marked
on some marble slate
in a city under the sea
ruled by a king
who feeds his mistresses
to fluorescent fish.

iii.

It's possible 
that we live in days
already decided
but we are too hard nosed
to stop believing
in our own say so.