Milk Press: dreamt a color called harvest, i’m no longer hungry
dreamt a color called harvest, i’m no longer hungry
all these aspen leaves burnt marigold.
the green of spruce a blush so blue
you’d call me greedy any day but this one,
which was heaven-sent if heaven were
a mirror & also horribly sad sometimes
& we named the space between trees
& she had horses, star-maned, tail held high.
i was higher than any home, un-hopeless
for six hours, drunk on gathering & grace.
mercy may have a hold on me, it was easy
to imagine. this could be like home.
