Spring Subtraction

I referee myself in view of you

who spring-load a triggering stretch reflex.

You have decreed that I stretch past mindfulness

while spring days ever-last around me. 

Fresh spring days deprecate young wisdom. 

A long shrill whistle means it's time to go.

I go long into the muted home to find you.

There the lockbox of my feelings clocks out.

I clock out of tradition safely sealed.

You forswear spring in fluent language.

Harsh language whips spring branches against glass.

One day I will erase you unrehearsed.

I buy a book called Erasure for Dummies. 

I referee myself in view of you.