I am green

i am painted green
in you
keeping gardens by
the oil wells
and tasting curry
in your pale skin
winter
we are beards
of rusty wire
culled together
in a caravan
of carbon ash
from the pyre
tongues of
green enamel
flakes
as silent mandalas
of rain

 

Reviews

[LR Young]

I love this... I've read a few of your poems already -- but this one thought is lovely and delicate. The curry skin, and winter there as a time marker. I'm off to read more.