Color Poems

White at edges curled, swept away.

Even with sunglasses, you can't look up.

Range is clear.

It's a beautiful day—

unsullied by smoke trails and drifting chutes.

The motor isn't working.

Guess we'll have to wait another day

to break the sky.

-x-x-x-

Crisp curving edges

Or gently pulsing points.

At night, they glow

Only to be captured for fingers, ears, and toes.

-x-x-x-

Is the color of his shirt

and his hair are all I can see

is that they're laughing

at him happens every day

he gets mad, he is yelling

won't do me any good.

So I just sit here, and all I see is