She is all at once
the unsatisfied green of dusty church-glass,
a clunky, misshapen animal figurine guarding a sleeping child
the vomit green of a smashed bottle on the beach-rocks
glinting in the warm dawn
after the sickly moonlit revelries
and the antique green like those
perpetually unsmashed bottles
that line my grandmother’s kitchen shelf
in the attic of my memory
She is the flame in some malachite jewel
set on the finger of some woman
and the celadon of a fire-roasted dish
and the tail of the Fiji mermaid
About the Creator
Carly Bush
I'm a writer with a passion for highly visual and quietly subversive literature. I contribute to Collective World and you can find my short stories and poetry here.
Connect with me on Instagram and TikTok: @carlyaugustabush
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Comments (1)
I'm fascinated with how you incorporated descriptions like, "sickly" and "unsatisfied" while at the same time convincing me to be absolutely enamored of the color. I appreciate this new perspective!