Leftover Valentine

The colors of leaves
but the forms of flowers
thick gray cloud cover
every morning
like a baffled stare
a leftover
intermediary type
out of warmth
and moisture
it's not too late
succulents
it's only 10:37
here there is only spring
permanent spring
and overhead
the hull of a death ship
we scrunch down under
waiting in silence
for the sun will soon
dismantle us
spill us out
and then again
gather us together.