Another Elegy

I want to relax, but it’s April.

My students cross and un-

Cross bare legs, one thigh,

In turn, holding the other

Down. Each limb,

Every stem on Earth

At battle, studded

With buds, all cocked

To win as the world

Splits into its stains. I live

With a disease instead

Of a lover. We take turns

Doing bad things

To my body, share a house

But do not speak. We eat

What I feed. Spring is a leg

And can’t be covered. One day,

I was born. That was long ago.