Seasonal affective disorder

On your desk I set a tangerine:
a relic of a winter quickly passing.

I’m reminded, fiercely, of a summer:
I watched the cemetery grass on my stomach.

You hate the wind blowing through buildings:
the coldness of fire, blister of a mountain stream.

When you broke down that night: your aunt / you
never have been / you shook that night /

Seasonal affective disorder is real: you
mutter under your breath on the highway.

The ant carries an orange peel past a headstone:
it carries her nearly as often.

I set a tangerine on your desk:
an engagement ring, winter-returned.