Everything Is Green

 
but every thing is not
what I seen there is

her taste for lying, truth
in my mouth a slicked line

she is whispering, working
hard, with all she’s got

to give, and me, crazy to go
on, my hands not steady

and my heart what is
the reason to believe she is

just a need I carry inside
to make every thing feel right

when I say her name she is
my morning, the sun out

in a mess of ash trees, light
but not any thing still green

Source: “Everything is Green,” Harpers (September 1989)


MAUREEN E. DOALLAS is the author of Neruda’s Memoirs: Poems (T.S. Poetry Press, 2011). Her work has appeared in Open to Interpretation: Water’s Edge and Oil and Water. . . And Other Things That Don’t Mix, and Felder Rushing’s book Bottle trees; in Every Day Poems and The Victorian Violet Press & Journal; and at VerseWrights, The Beautiful Due, Poets for Living Waters, the sad red earth, and Red Lion Square.

Ms. Doallas writes daily at Writing Without Paper, is an Artist Watch editor for Escape Into Life, and a contributing writer to Manhattan Arts and TweetSpeakPoetry.

1 Comment

  • September 5, 2013

    Winston Plowes

    Loved this Maureen. As a reader it never lets you quite grip the subject and makes you work but that only adds to its impact.