Of the Color Red
Red flames its connotations at me
in machine-gun style as I stand apart,
gazing down upon a viscous blood
that gathers on the ground.
It darkens, as to pour
an offending brown of quasi innocence,
defiance of its claim to urgency,
though crimson petticoated ladies
scream, and stream away.
A color holds for me too much of sway
to siphon off mere brightness
from a twilight evil
just to make a point; it screams and rages,
throws romance upon a dalliance,
excites a passion far too colorless alone
to sweep a lady of the night
into the morning.
It takes its purplish and golden hues along
reluctantly. It is a prima donna
unassuaged upon its fearsome quest
to rule the sky at sunset when
those mocking soft pastels would rather
whisper their reflection of the day.
~
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