Russet-Rose stained copper

---

The rose is aghast.

Its long-last war
with snow, over

and it peeks out
its petaled

eyes. sees this
world so

wonderful, so
bright, so
new.

spring.

remembers longer
nights, and

darker hours,
dreams of

shorter days,
chaos and

thorns -

piercing its
skin.

hides from the
light, and

recoils in its
fright, the

white, blind and
white, all is
white -

startling white.

it shivers and

returns to

white.

----

Red

---

I'm 

seeing-red.

Tread careful,
colors becoming

bred in discontent,
armies marching forth

into the night, oh night.

And those who draw near,
crashing thunder come and

reflect upon this early air,
fire as cool as wet morning dew

dripping down from bayonets.

War bells ring, like bells from

the old church, priests rising in
royal-red robes to bless the

sacrificial lambs.

Dread the dawn,
pall-bearers meet the field

and join the procession 
and the fight.

Blushing cheeks in winter-cold.

Memories of lips
stained in cherry-blossoms.

Little dresses.

Camping trips.

Lipstickkiss.

Flamingdrip.

Breathing.

Passion's
whick.

Red the coat of

the dead. 

---- 

Black

----
Awake the earthworm who
sleeps without knowing when

light has come - all is
dark, blackness of

dirt and coughing syrup in
his throat

long tube cut up in choppy-

dots, polka-dots, white and
black coffee beans so

keep me awake, oh coffee
beans -

decaf is not for me, blackness
by deft design, blackness

which doesn't hide the
grin you kept in

side that grim and grimy
place, digging

up into the starless
night sky.

Wake me, I slumber in
light.

It wasn't a white cat that
passed me by -

Black as pepper, black as pitch,
black as black

Death - wrapped around
a telephone pole.

Wake me, I see the

grinning faces, shadow
toes tickling the

clown faces rippling in
dreams.

Wake me before I sleep,

oh darkness, come and
bring with you

God, he's been hiding
from me behind that

sparkling sun.

God who once said let
there be light;

but first there was,
black.

----

I too, minority

---

I do not have the advantages of a woman.

I do not have breasts to compare to mounds of dirt or
a womb which ties me to mother-Earth, or
battered cheeks from bruising men, or
dreams of leaving home again

but bear with me, if you will
for I too, have words
and desires yet to
be fulfilled.

-----