Grass by John W. Sexton
by Steven McCabe
Along my flanks edges of me are cool
in the shadows of the trees. The rest of me
is out in the sun, brightly green. I’m green
everywhere, except when I’m not; but even in
the withering of me there’s a memory
My name is synonymous with green
and like that colour I’m innocence itself.
Everything comes to me for everything comes
to the floor, and I’m the floor of everywhere.
Even beneath the sea you’ll find a version
of me. But most of the time you’ll find me here,
wherever you happen to be. I’ll be waiting. I remain
here for everyone. It is said I cover the dead, and actually
I do. But I much prefer the living.
And the living I live
for most is my darling love. She steps barefoot onto me,
walks my length. I feel myself cooling under each step.
Then she undresses and begins to lie down.
First I feel the shadow of her shape, and then
her shape. I could grow into this. Usually I do.
Previously published in Census 2 – From the collection The Offspring of the Moon, Salmon Poetry
John W. Sexton’s mind was poured into his body in 1958; since then his life has been dedicated to poetry.
The photo of the grass I wove into some of my digital compositions is from Wikipedia Commons. Credit Marcus Obal, 2007. I am manipulating this image under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2