If all of them are right and if all pills are Pink Pills, let us
try for once not to be right.
-Tristan Tzara (tr. Robert Motherwell)
I laughed and clapped
As my dog shat on the
Neighbors' daffodils I thought
When spring pushes, push back
It was March I was still here
Stitching up a small tear
In my heart It was hard
Like sewing a button on a shirt
While you wear it
Like ironing a shirt
While you're wearing it
Using only the steam
When spring pushes push steam
Push pause push the door of the
Bedroom shut and mend
Tzara you were right the pink
pill is ubiquitous is meaningless
is All The pink pill is the tear
pushed from God's eye as he yelled
Up, whorish daffodils!
Sun, turn snow to rain to steam!
And humans my puppets, laugh & clap!
Heather Green lives in Nebraska and works in Alabama. Her poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from Pilot magazine, Boxcar Poetry Review, and The Cupboard Pamphlet.