When the green came on

When the green came on, did you notice

How the skin forgets what it was like to be so dry

and the taste of this air forgotten on

how normal it is to be well.

All this time with that ache in my throat,

dry eyes, like I could drink the oceans

thirsty looking for you.

But it comes apart at the turning, suddenly

(though time keeps pace, I just felt the rush like a bend in

reality, what is real anyway. Tell me the truth.)

I can’t remember what it felt like to

be cold to my bones.

Why can’t grief be the same. Or tell me it is,

only the season hasn’t changed yet.

31poemsMegan Jones