Benevolence

Oops!

I almost let it spill through my black fingertips 

like melted whip! 

I write for myself, first and foremost

I write for my health 

For warmth through this tricky, unbearable cold that stings me 

When the heat is sticky and determined to numb parts of my brain 

turning me all gooey and estranged 

gloomy and deranged 

Now, let me explain: 

Writing is how we keep the green, green

It is how we look through the blue inside 

reminded that I am held up by the same benevolence 

that lifts, and holds, the moon