The Wall Was Painted

When I woke up this morning,
     I noticed someone
          had painted the wall—
Green like moss, but not mossy
     like moss.
Flat, creamy instead
     like a well-baked potato
Oh! and some sour cream.
Listed black I wondered who painted
          the green wall.
It wasn't "the green wall" before
     but now they had painted it
          It became the green wall
Creamy green like well-baked
     moss with sour cream
          And a bug—
     A little mosquito who
     while I slept had
     flown into the
Still wet wall and stayed.
I wonder if it wanted to be there,
Perhaps thinking it was a
               creamy mossed potato,
          with sour cream —and a bug.
Well, now a bug, anyway:
          The green bug wall.
It was not a green bug, before
It was not a green wall, before
Someone must have painted it while I slept
     —and dreamed of forests and streams
Those! They had all been green!
In the thick of the forest or jungle,
Where the water clings
     to the top of the damp
Even the shadows are green.
But my dream had not ended
     in the forest
I ran to the bluffs—
     chalk lime with rusty bloody streaks.
And awoke with my baked moss painted green.
     My green wall
          And green bug.