Organics
This chartreuse dream, it plagues me,
Starting at my stem,
Creeping like vines,
mossy and lush,
Jading my grey-matter.
Sending lime
sparks between synapses.
Taking root in the emerald, kelpie tangle of Medulla
flesh.
It is a seed, floating,
A lily-pad in my malachite meninges, thin.
An Olive fruit that quenches my thirst with Minty juices,
A flowering,viridian forest tongue.
A word so very Viridescent.
By Kristy Bond
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