بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

The green of the walls has soaked into me, seeped out of me.
My yellow thermos is a green thermos now.
My clothes are green, the world tilts away from blue and away from yellow, meets my eye in the middle, green.
To cut, to craft, to roar with my hands from that ravid crumple of my soul, I am lured to the string of my bow, the needle’s point passing between fibers, the rhythm of my bo.
You were sweet, dulce, drip of honey on tongue-tip, fructal fragment melting.
I am a water, a life, a sprout of spring leaves on a barren branch.
I am green, small, fast-growing and numerous.
I am the drip of dew-rain that kisses a leaf tip.
I am too the leaf tip and the vein, the flush of spring sap in a maple tree.
All of these, polluted.
All crushed and cut and swept into a landfill....