These hard seasons behind me,
they have slipped away — scraping their nails down my back.
They have pierced and bruised my skin,
like painful reminders of the low places I have been and the things I lack.
In the midst of their coldest, darkest times,
they pulled up chairs at my table to wine and dine,
and sunk their teeth in to feast on me and my body of dreams
mango ripe — flesh soft and sweet,
salivating right down to my…