The brief red of a dusk you witnessed
from the backseat of a car. The red apple
you bit and whose flesh you spat out, sickened.
The red blush no one can see, your face
hot to touch. Red blood under dark skin.
Red blood against pavement. Red blood
on white sheets. The red we crave
and the red we shun. The red stain
on a pink tongue. Red bird in the backyard,
an augury of rain. Red lights flashing
in your eyes. Your grandmother’s red dress
in the photograph. What was once red
now faded to pink and then—finally—to white.
The red house where you might have lived once.
When you ride past it, you finally realize
that it was always brown.
'Red blood against pavement. Red blood
on white sheets. The red we crave
and the red we shun. The red stain
on a pink tongue'
is beautiful, i think