* This poem was written for a contest. The requirement was to use color in 75 words or less. I loved this challenge, because color is a device I use in general for my poetry. In fact, I had to cut back on the use of color, not because I needed to so much as to try other poetic devices. In other words, I have been trying to grow, so I hope you all appreciate my efforts.
Citrus
My mind dwells in yellow;
blues dissolved green
until what lingered
was a sour lemon
stuck in butter.
Abandonment isn’t as awful
as the remains
of a tepid relationship
picked over by crows,
bones buried
in fermented compost.
Words spit nails into hands,
pressed against stucco walls
knives thrown at cranberry heart
missing by inches
but you wear plum battle scars.
Yet, I miss the idea of you -
only the thought.
