bicycles

saddled with the season
and buried by a hibernating
cronus / where are you
where
have you gone?
fallen to the ground
gone to seed
growing another
creature of metal
from your rusted corpse?
hiding beneath winter
herself
burying your way
into the heart of
a vernal equinox
where you may rise again
in pieces
or as your new world melts
wicked witching its way southwards
to the ground
where it pools
around your proud feet

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