The Encounter

    “What color?”
    People ask me,
    Their faces reflected in my
    Eyes and squinting in the sun.
    Eyes like small slits,
    New cuts
    In a child’s knee.
    Seconds drip by slowly
    And I offer the obligatory
    Conclusion for simplicity’s
    Sake. “Green.”

    I invite the dissection of
    This gaze with analytical instruments
    Of cold steel.
    Only dirty lakes
    Wait for you here.
    An army of brown spots
    Invades navy scratches
    In orbs. They wrestle,
    Desperate hues, mixing
    Vibrant blood to form
    Questionable green.

    Faded light
    And film of gray
    Envelopes iris islands.
    But a heathery wash is the
    Jealous brother of green in
    The cruel spectrum display and
    Staring too long leaves a
    Sour taste.

    What color?
    The question echoes in my
    Mind in this room
    And escapes through cracked
    Window to scrape the sleeping sky
    But…It’s not important to me now.
    And I close my eyes in a
    Saturation of sun.


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