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.