my heart beats less in November
it has nothing to do with love
ice crystals in the morning sun
the dead leaves around my feet
tight shoes
gloved hands
last year’s down jacket
it beats so much faster in July
when I can’t
stop the sun’s honey from passing
through the open window
it’s got nothing to do with you
your impending winter hibernation
or my own seasonal disposition
it’s just a heart on a spinning planet
beating uncosmically
through a month late
in a jaded year
