Mia

the grass on your front lawn is
the devilish kind of green
growing sicker
and brighter in the sun

and your windows shine with
smudged luminescence
blurring your father's smiling face into
swirls of tan
and red

I am an amalgamation
Of mother and father—
And their mothers
And their fathers we can’t find

I am a dutiful representation of humankind 
The offspring of rules
Beaten into my parents’ beloved flesh
Their bones, 

You will begin again
like rain in the spring:
forever returning to weep upon my shoulder.

Like the sunrise after a cloudy day:
beautiful, anticipated, needed,
and loved.

I tried,
you didn't

In the winter the moon doesn't look like cheese
in winter the moon looks like a whitened, polished tooth floating in the sky, 
out of place like a moose in a pigsty, 
so, no, child
I have no idea why 

the trees smothered in fog, clumped into a forest remind me to breathe, 
breathe, 
because I'm surrounded by the splatter painting of mountains,

beige
a yellowy color
with undertones of brown 
and consistency like butter
soft and soothing like a bike ride in the summer
it's a bummer 
that beige is such a boring color.