On Mark Ruffalo's "Hulk"

Nothing survives.
Not the scarred memory of love,
not silence, or the promise of amnesty,
or secrets, or fenced kindness,
or the absurdity of fear,
or freedom encased in lead.

All that remains
is the thawed distance
between the furrowed brow
and delicate reason,

just the darkness that is green,
nothing more.