Give a word,
any word—
the meaning is in context.
Like grass,

which is green,
can be brown, maybe is your hair
or is a reed
between thumbs
for makeshift music.
Or maybe it is glass
like the eyes of the dead
turned so black
you want to shoot
marbles with, but
it is too late—
for them

for you—
if you look close eye-to-eye
the reflection, you see—
you are swimming in an oily film,
can’t be pinned.
Does this read well?
Not like the monarch
the butterfly you see
that landed on,
you see,
the wrong blade of grass.