With your mad colors, your multiple inks;
henna could only dream of the dark hues
that you inhabit. I’ve had my pinks,
my oaks and walnuts, my skimpy sky blues
and wash-out reds. But burly green? “Green, green,
how I love you.” Green is the underworld
of all colors. It’s Hades, the obscene
door to Hell, it’s the Devil’s swamp, all swirled
with the bayou, rekindled with venom.
Green is death, it reminds us that foliage
bears us ill will. Do not blame green for your
woe. Green doesn’t care. It’s mad as Bedlam.
Heady as wormwood. Cryptic as language.
Wise as rolling hills. Foolish as liqueur.