Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/W8KTS-mhFUE) 11.02.223.
Color of Her Pain
What color would she paint her pain on a Friday night
as she sits patiently in wait of the coming hours?
What fabric would she choose for the somber evening
when the crowds pretend her invisibility once more?
Artist, she would choose the brushes of her dreams
and apply the watercolors on a standing canvas
to let the mixture of her tears cry to a floor of clouds.
No black, no white, but a rainbow of choices she never had
to taint the cotton candy of a youth so long captive
within the nebulous walls of those alien lives.
Her chest heaves once again, she sighs softly in her world
holding her soul so tight in a safer embrace, alone
she crosses her dreams over the bruised depth of her;
a bluish aura of ice cold memories envelop her future.
Shivering in the flesh she shares with her gentle kin;
is there suddenly no hope for a warmer hearth?
Must she shed those moments endlessly again?
Can she not rejoice in the reprieve of the gentle neighbor!
The shape of her pain grows into a mound of aching nectar;
a strange substance bearing no semblance to her elegance,
so close to graze her satin sphere, her disguised friend hopes
to simply shatter the opal treasure chest and free her.
About the Author: Poussin teaches French and English at a university in Georgia, USA. His work in poetry and photography has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other publications worldwide. Most recently, his collections “In Absentia,” and “If I Had a Gun,” were published in 2021 and 2022 by Silver Bow Publishing.
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