P—W  V° 02:01

Enter After Green

by Alina Gregorian

When light turns dark at an angle. When furniture pushes against the wall. You acknowledge pixels that require immediate assistance—they’re small, but they’re there. Tell me about the happiness you carry for the rug. The strands you braid at noon. The shapes that hug the wall. It’s a way to stack the day. To future the plywood and grasshopper the stove. To remember a dozen times to say hello.

2022 © A.Gregorian