hobart logo

August 31, 2020 Poetry

The Green

Mat Wenzel

The Green photo

Maybe the green
just shows up
because whatever
happens underground
can’t be a color
where there is no light,
sure it
builds, takes over,
darkness like 
a wet sponge,
but that first shoot
wasn’t and then
it was. I should
stay up late
to sing you 
a song in the dark
of night where our
hands and knees
make night vision
of each other, or
fall so inbetween
that I make
a portrait of you
in my sleep
and ask in
the morning
where’d all this
green come from
and tell you again
about the first 
time I saw sprinkler
heads bulging from
the mat of 
gorgeous blades
networked by their
hairy roots to leap
up and shower
all the green,
grass, oaks, palms,
leaving puddles
on the sidewalk
that I swear to 
you reflected
the palms. I'd never
seen that before,
the palms reflected
in the puddles.

 

 

image: Doug Paul Case


SHARE