Lizzy Burnam 🐞

Whoever named you 
didn’t know you 
like I do. 
They didn’t know 
the green you keep 
under the skin 
translucent green 
like algae blooms 
and paper thin.
As pale a green 
as honeydew 
and not so, 
not so very blue 
the veins that swim 
inside of you. 
They didn’t see 
the purple stain 
your signature 
on farmer’s palms 
who picked you off 
the vine they grew 
somewhere in Maine 
and not so, 
not so very blue 
the fingerprints 
they left of you. 
If I only could, 
I’d change your name 
to something more 
like sea glass 
from the ocean floor
or violet coral 
among the moss 
beneath an ancient 
hardwood tree 
or like the nightshade 
aubergine 
or something not so, 
not so blue. 
No, more than that. 
And more like you.