Orange Isn’t Green
By Michael Tronnolone
and I'm whiter than snow.
Should I struggle and fight
or simply let go?
Poke her off the precipice
watch her fall unto oblivion
as she slips into a space
that's somewhat non-Euclidian.
The arrow of the infant god
lands wherever fate's wind blows -
in your heart, in your mind,
in your heel, in your woes.
The axe chopped her down,
made her feel so very small,
then he held her up high.
That's so very far to fall.
'Don't worry, you'll like it!'
Her ivories gleamed.
She tied him to a 'coaster,
sat back, watched him scream
as she changed the lights ahead
from red
to orange
to green.