The Purpose of Seasons by Clay Carpenter

The Purpose of Seasons

Five years feel like one

the purpose of seasons

sharpens like edges

of a tanker when

September fog burns

off the ship channel

Winter’s sterile needles

inject opiate charms a

subterranean clicking

builds to insectile

swarming piercing

skin releasing

dragonflies into the

bleached stadium

of summer then lights

flicker and fail one

at a time and the project

disintegrates like dry

leaves cracking underfoot

The rotation jangles

in the blood stretching

perception adding years