Red (fragment)

Red,
scarlet or crimson
or even nerve-tingly
red, nameless, without
a calling — just a color
inside of a closed eye
when pressed; cells or specks,
whirling dervish-sense,
dots flowing
in a river; blinded as to
where it flows into;
red as poppies
for memory, red as
roses to bring forth dead,
red as rust on used tools;
runner-up in a race
finally won by other shades,
other colors; red
color of second victory,
final red, bent head
over wasted knees, hair
matted with blood,
drying to brown as
air touches it, as it
is foiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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