Jealousy is not a green emotion.
It is pyramid-shaped and a watery pink;
your shy morning shadow beginning to shrink,
who says (in a voice punctured by light) ‘I’ll follow you.
Your thoughts of others guide the treacherous sun
which drags me back and forth like the trigger of a gun.
See, each wink of your eye in another direction
is no threat in the wake of my incredible weapons”.
Most often, it is her I follow; she shades my eyes from you
we hold hands like paper dolls and our mouths are sealed with glue.
I have befriended your shadow. It has become an affair.
Her secrets are structures built from sand and prayers.
(yes, your shadow is jealous of your unrestrained life

and I let it enact my bitter Orion).