Home > napowrimo, poetry > Sunday


Today’s poem comes from the NaPoWriMo prompt of the day to write a poem where everything is a certain color or where one color predominates.


green cells,
chlorophylls filling my stomach;
as if this sustenance were as green as
my soul.

green is envy, or so i am
told, but i think green is
selfish, perhaps envy is found therein,
and i couldn’t help but notice your
green eyes with your green
stripes, the kind which you only notice
because you’ve green eyes.
i feel greenly ridiculous,
standing here my hands green with
regret and softly i pray you,
“what is green if not the black crux
wherein souls speak?”
and you tell me,
“i am not green if you are
only sleeping and we are furiously
flying forward and freedom finds itself
forlorn and green!”
it’s sunday and sunday is
only green when you close your eyes
but this is particular insomuch as you
have so long your eyes kept
closed and forever they will
be covered with the green cellophane,
you will be hued and slighted,
envied and envious!
whereas the wherewithal
and nothing-feelingness
define sordid strangeness.

my stomach is green and
gangrenous are my
heart and lungs,
i inhale the fresh chlorophyll of day,
that six a.m. vernal air,
and i breathe in nothing but green;
what isn’t green if it isn’t
black and hollow?

Categories: napowrimo, poetry
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