Stuck with March

If only it was July,
but I am stuck with March.
If only the moon was out,
but it is not yet night
with its darkness,
I am stuck with March
and the sun’s brilliance.
My head pounds.
It is not in order.
My yesterday sleeps.
I wish I was back there.
I am immersed
in this moment.
I have such pain
and medicine works slow.
When tonight comes
I will stay in the house
and leave the moon alone.
I have blurred vision.
My head pounds.
The stars I see are not high.
I am stuck with March.
Each day seems to drag.
In this world, March feels
like a wound that won’t heal.