by Casey Jespon
© 1998
When I am sick
I look like this orb of vitamins
that is healthy as it is
lime green, ironically
No stem, connection to life around us
but life in itself
detatched
to fulfill man’s desire
for sweet, succulant
flesh from tree
Cut off at the womb
like a solitary twin of yellow
It is fragile as frozen air
vulnerable itself, can cut you
Just sits there, waiting for anything
to go with the flow
no objections
fighting not to rot
in a school of something else
someone else
To think would be an aberration
to ripen, auspition
Born to taste
but never to taste
a haystack in a needle
an incarnation of love.
Can you guess what the Little Green Man is? This is one of the three poems of my Contest. Click to see details.