The grass never stays long enough to go brown.

She flew in from the grey and
All of the skin on her legs could not be
bought from me.
The voice that wrought a piece of me so
Crucial I thought all of the breathing before
it must have been labored and never this
free.

When our hair touched and fell together
the green stayed longer. Like someone
hired a caretaker who raked through the mounds
of myself there was left behind. What parts
kept the ground barren were gathered up and

I could see a new season.