Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Not quite dawn, I am the sleepy no-color of everything. Scrim of fog pierced by rower in silent skiff. Water mimicking sky. Mutable. Inconstant. Blue-gray, gray-green. Trickle and lap of sheen on sand. I am the color of grief and age. Vapor and ashes on the tongue, mildew, arsenic’s sharp tang. Rain-ping on metal roof. Absence. Regret. I am dove’s wing, kitten, violet-lipped shadow. I am the go-between. I am smoke. I am the ragged bellies of clouds. At dusk, all colors seep into me as I spread my cloak for moon kiss, night, my lover. Sun sketches with me. I erase, smudge, obscure. I am circumspect, reflective. The color of contemplation. Sage leaf and soft Lamb’s Ear. I am the memory of green. The price of progress run wild, the blinding glare of commerce and war. Industrial, high-rise, hard. I freeze. I burn. I am stinging sleet and melting ice. I am the viscous core of mountains, the rock ribs of the earth. I am spanner of rivers, skyscraper bone, jet. Listen. I am the keen of flywheels. I am gossip, truck rumble, wet wind, sparrow. Seed, or needle, in your hands. Spade, if you dig with me. Freeway, cobbled street, frostbitten furze on moonlit path, concrete, asphalt, unyielding stone. I am gunmetal-charcoal-pewter-mercury-nickel-platinum-steel. I am goose down. Iron. Fin-flash in quicksilver sea. I am pistol, bullet, corpse, worm. Dark before light, light before dark. I am beautiful. I am the face of death. I am patient. I am what comes after. I am nothing. Call me mirror.