Eric Ashford Poet Blank verse

Emerging Yellow

When I look at the charred plasma 
of a bare knuckled wind
I forget yellow

I forget the smeared tone 
of skunk cabbage
rising through fog and mulch
or how in Chiang Mai
the river at sunset
transforms a blistered heat
into the stippled gold of temple lamps

After the grey scuttle of urban hours 
there is a yellowed drizzle 
of twilight in any city
when a chill haze of evaporation
hangs gleaming and electric

I see the mottled leaf of autumn
how gold seeps through
its flamboyant carnage

away from the ruby panic 
of fledgling mouths
or the crimsoned wounds of flowers 
I seek a tint
an irreducible essence
a yellow, not oxidize like blood 
in the light of day

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