a dust quota

~ [ [ a dust quota / no amount of cetirizine will fix ] ] ~ 

we swapped sunflowers in august
& now it’s April, the cruelest month
for those open to snow storms,
cold promises for buried blood
& the vagueness of a blue sky,
a shipping forecast
etched in the stamp press
of a letter, the year’s first
daisy crushed
between two words
like that, like that
the time.
//