Green
Gary Turchin
I lost my virginity at 19--
A late start--
To a woman whose eyes
were so green
you’d think they were
living, breathing planets
in orbit around each other
and I was their juicy green reflection.
“Moon boy,” she called me.
For 18 months, everything was green:
My orange car, green,
Her auburn hair, green,
The snow that buried our campus, green,
the sun that woke us up every morning, green
Even my puffy blue down jacket, green
Our kisses and licks, all green diamond stars,
our poems paintings and pictures,
all green as gumption
green as money
Green as an Irish bog,
Green as envy
Green as grief
Green as the first time,
when she asked how I knew what to do,
“instinct,” I‘d said,
Even my soul--
the very ooze of greenness.
My legs were green and open
my dimples, green and brash
my crooked white smile, green
my instincts, all green
Europe was green when we came calling,
Paris, Rome, Madrid, all green
the fjords of Norway, green
the beaches of Spain, green, green, green
the dampness of her desire,
always wet and green,
the lovemaking in Wales, green as green could be,
the argument in Paris, green
the one in London, greener still,
the sweater she knitted,
of Scottish wool, bought right at the mill, all green,
even the brown buttons, green
Her whole world was a green and throbbing place,
her heart, a thundering green drummer,
her ears understood the greenness of words,
all words, all green
her tongue tasted everything as green,
Her smile bled true green blood
And when she cried good bye,
all the green came out of me
like stuffing.
A late start--
To a woman whose eyes
were so green
you’d think they were
living, breathing planets
in orbit around each other
and I was their juicy green reflection.
“Moon boy,” she called me.
For 18 months, everything was green:
My orange car, green,
Her auburn hair, green,
The snow that buried our campus, green,
the sun that woke us up every morning, green
Even my puffy blue down jacket, green
Our kisses and licks, all green diamond stars,
our poems paintings and pictures,
all green as gumption
green as money
Green as an Irish bog,
Green as envy
Green as grief
Green as the first time,
when she asked how I knew what to do,
“instinct,” I‘d said,
Even my soul--
the very ooze of greenness.
My legs were green and open
my dimples, green and brash
my crooked white smile, green
my instincts, all green
Europe was green when we came calling,
Paris, Rome, Madrid, all green
the fjords of Norway, green
the beaches of Spain, green, green, green
the dampness of her desire,
always wet and green,
the lovemaking in Wales, green as green could be,
the argument in Paris, green
the one in London, greener still,
the sweater she knitted,
of Scottish wool, bought right at the mill, all green,
even the brown buttons, green
Her whole world was a green and throbbing place,
her heart, a thundering green drummer,
her ears understood the greenness of words,
all words, all green
her tongue tasted everything as green,
Her smile bled true green blood
And when she cried good bye,
all the green came out of me
like stuffing.
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Gary Turchin is the author of the novel, Through a Broken Window (2020 Simon DeWitt) which subsequently won first place in the 2020 Best Indie Book Award--BIBA, mainstream fiction category--and the 2021 NYC Big Book Award (first place, Sports Fiction). Gary is also the author/illustrator of the cult classic picture book, If I Were You (Simon DeWitt 2011), and the award-winning (San Francisco Book Festival, 2013) illustrated verse collection, Ditty-Ditty Doggerel; A Life From Bad To Verse (Simon DeWitt 2012). In 2013, Sugartown Publications released his poetry collection, Falling Home. His most recent poetry book, PRE-MEDICATED Poems was published in 2021 by Naked Bulb. garyturchin.net
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