Spring
by Hiromi Yoshida
Mud-speckled snow; clouded icicles
glint a jagged fringe along SUV bumpers—
snow angels are whirred unwinged
smudges on spongy ground;
gutters gurgle, sputter last night’s rainwater; remnant
Campbell’s Chunky Soup warms,
coagulates,
a flaking tomato rind in Teflon-scratched
saucepans
blunt plastic spatulas scrape
away—the dregs of
winter soaked, washaway in rosy
Dawn
liquid detergent—to coalesce again
in askew
Ground Hog shadow. Spring,
the dilettante strumpet, gathers
her chorus
of invisible doves in her snowy,
mud-flecked skirts.
Resurrect the gold daffodil
starburst—
peonies
dropping overblown heads; rabbits
nestled in backyard grass, statuesque, unblinking,
quivering ears; robins whirring
jeweled wingtips
in futile pothole baths.
Hiromi Yoshida, recognized
as one of Bloomington’s “finest and most outspoken poets,” is a finalist for
the 2019 New Women’s Voices Chapbook Competition, sponsored by Finishing Line
Press. Her poems have been published in literary magazines and journals that
include Indiana Voice Journal, The Indianapolis Review, Tipton
Poetry Journal, The Asian American Literary Review, and The
Rain, Party, & Disaster Society. Hiromi loves to contemplate the
oddities of life, such as mismatched buttons, abandoned houses, and birdsong in
thunderstorms.