red vines are creeping up along july
to ask the girlish wildflowers to dance
on celestial kingdom’s sameness they rely
yet roles are shifting, gendered all askance.
such a summer to be a bat in bloom.
awkward as a newly mothered cub,
mewling, blind & reaching for the plume
of her multicolored, feathered downy love,
only to discover it had been shed
in anticipation of a winter coat.
randomized, the numbers in the red,
a dozen months devoted to free-float.
such asinine arithmetic i’d wrought!
to err, to lose, to love as time forgot.