mas feliz

Green, her eyes were green,
her soul was green, lime green,
the face that held her smile, the
cheeks that kept her youth, green.

Somatic wonder, blue powder, the
pollen she stole, the blindness
of butterflies.



Each step a summer's song, thigh
of hunter's prize. Golden retreat;

the shy bottomless longing, in those
eyes I remember her story, fabled,
consecrated my mother's mouth.


And she moves through me, the
incorporeal being; mythic. As the sadness
swells in knowing as she was what she was:
a green wind under trees, never settling, the

stubbornness of bees, the white light open
through solidity of teeth.