A Popsicle in March

A Popsicle in March
A popsicle in March was not expecting you for several more months
Frosty sleep has fortified its walls, and it
Answers your first rude bite with a brittle shrug


A popsicle in March
Feels the pull of its function, the tug of your unreasonable demands
Your second bite setting of an internal debate
Between what must be and what could have been

A popsicle in March weeps and wonders
Why you could not have waited just a bit longer
For you have many lives to live and it has but one to give
Internal shifts, minglings and migrations, capillary actions
Adjust it to the idea that time passes and
Its time on the stage is now
And as your third bite sinks easier and deeper
It is now your turn to wonder
Is this collaboration or surrender?

A popsicle in March is still yet a popsicle
And it is whispers to you through clenched teeth
The secrets it had hoped to sing
Sugar is still sweet whether secreted like the dew
Or wrung as from a sponge

A popsicle in March in the end will not object
It will not organize heaven to rain shame on
He that rends the packages at 5:00 on Christmas morning
Will not point the finger at the disturber of the peace

A popsicle in March is the consumed, not the consumpter
The hand that points must be the hand that rules.