Green

Nocturne No. 10

I would not ask to be sent back
So that I might undo the things
Which grew into the very wings
Straining against this rope, this rock

I’d only ask for one last surge—
Back across the coma gulf
And onto the shoulders of my green self
Where I could rest; and he would shrug

And by the time we have returned
These wings will be two lifetimes’ size—
That even in their knots of disease
They measure up to the brimming world