Paint my fingernails with that twelve
dollar CVS nail polish.
Paint my world green like shimmering aspens,
green leaching from my fingertips, green
like the moss that grows on my childhood
swingset. Paint my everything
green, engulfing me, covering
my world, comforting me. Watch me as I slip
my sage-green hoodie over my head. Watch me as I stretch
my limbs and crack my back on the weeds, and don’t look
away. Give me mustaches from matcha foam,
fork slices of key lime pie, half a kiwi,
worn-out children’s Crocs, the California woods,
pet crocodiles. Give me
Central Park in mid-May and my father
and I perched in a tree, sitting by an algae bloom, drinking
hot cocoa out of green plastic cups. Give me
Starbucks at three p.m. on a Sunday, the jade
turtle on my windowsill, my little
green hoco dress. Give me
the vines I braid into head crowns, Expo on a crisp whiteboard,
and his knitted juniper long-sleeve I wear to sleep. Give me
my father’s old banker’s lamp that I broke at fourteen,
the colour of Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, and Noah Kahan, the colour
of sleepless nights on Spotify. I’m aurora borealis
stretched across the North Pole, fresh guacamole
on the poolside table, Trader Joe’s limeade sipped in line
for Lady Gaga, vegetable hummus wraps spilled over
a gingham picnic blanket. I’m pitiful
text messages sent to blocked exes, every
mother’s homemade Caesar salad served at family reunions,
Granny Smith wedges drizzled in honey, the blades
of grass underneath my feet when I threw sand
at my best friend’s back, mold killing
the tree I tried pull-ups on, the oak leaves pressing
into my thighs when I told my boyfriend to kiss me
on the walking trail, which was near a road called Lime Rock.
Please, let me keep my green
thumb and the wildflowers in my balcony’s potted garden,
please, let the memories of my girlhood linger,
please, keep me drenched in this green world,
god, I never want to leave.
