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by Alison Driscoll
Green is abandonment, the overgrown, the unattended
The ivy asphyxiating pebble dashed walls
Green men moonwalking at night, the green of isolation
The green of bilateral fields waving us home, our gemstone analgesic
The unbiased green of maternity wards and the present tense
Malignant weeds, the green of fresh nodes
The margins of the seasons – nature’s etchings in doorframes
The green of greenhouses, sweating incubated cabbages
Green of poaceae, green of inspiration in poésie
The green of the real life – the rhizopus in the bread bin
Surging bile in the peritoneum tidal waves invisible
The alopecia of trees sighing in change
Green is the central line of our world body electric
The green of amitriptyline; healing is just outside
Doc(tor) leaves the age old cure
The green of the first aid kit, the tea and the tree at my back door.
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