-for Adrian She notion it was green.-for Adrian She notion it was green, not the emerald fresh of Indian summer but a flourishing like a darkening plain, or the shadow rivers cast. She consideration it was light, a glint or a warning, the shine at the papery keenness of storm clouds. The way a voice rising and falling becomes a premonition, a dampness at the back of her neck Or maybe it was more of an imprint, a memory of hale some afternoon after the circus has left town and all that remains is a field strewn with garbage, a music of pasted stars and ruin. And she deliberation of a color like that, mud-green the virid of a small sadness, shapeless as the wind itself. And for a significance she owned everything inside it, the light, the field, the wind. Copyright World poesy Incorporated Mar/Apr 2001 |
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