Come a little closer.
Brimming with dahlias and sunflowers
Water gurgling over a rusty stone fountain
The seeds scatter to the balmy breeze
Carried on the polished back of a goldfinch
Laid to rest in the scratchy grass beneath a swaying beechtree.
Come closer still.
We spit out the dry pulp of a lemon
Landing on the sun-baked bricks underneath our mucky, callused feet.
The golden band of a bracelet, earring, necklace snatch the light away
And hoard it in the space between semi-precious stone and skin.
Wrists dip
Exposing the vulnerable blue ribbons of life where arm meets hand.
Citrusy peels litter the wrought-iron table
The sticky lemon juice winds its way down fingers in front of unattending eyes
Yellow-green pears the shape of teardrops are plucked from branches
Their rotten bruises are cut off swiftly with sharpened metal
They hit the pile of putrid waste with a dull thump.
Even closer.
We cannot sit here too long.
Unease seeps through the gaps between the leaves
Tombstones adorned with yellow lilies tilt their chins up
The sickly sweet flower petals detach limply from their stem.
They make almost no sound at all
Only a rustle to the scuttling ants in their bronze battle gear.
Miniature flames of cigarettes are stabbed into ceramic pots
Lipstick the color of drugstore wine rings the mustard yellow patch.
One more time.
The tang of sweat under neon yellow baseball caps is pungent and earthy
Fireworks erupt against black, vacuous space
Families with golden puppies huddle their small children on their laps
As they spill over their parents’ limbs to explore.
The goldfinch rests on its egg
When yellow will be brought in this world again
In a matter of minutes.
Artist Statement: My favorite color is summer yellow, so this poem is about all the yellow things that make me happy.
Brimming with dahlias and sunflowers
Water gurgling over a rusty stone fountain
The seeds scatter to the balmy breeze
Carried on the polished back of a goldfinch
Laid to rest in the scratchy grass beneath a swaying beechtree.
Come closer still.
We spit out the dry pulp of a lemon
Landing on the sun-baked bricks underneath our mucky, callused feet.
The golden band of a bracelet, earring, necklace snatch the light away
And hoard it in the space between semi-precious stone and skin.
Wrists dip
Exposing the vulnerable blue ribbons of life where arm meets hand.
Citrusy peels litter the wrought-iron table
The sticky lemon juice winds its way down fingers in front of unattending eyes
Yellow-green pears the shape of teardrops are plucked from branches
Their rotten bruises are cut off swiftly with sharpened metal
They hit the pile of putrid waste with a dull thump.
Even closer.
We cannot sit here too long.
Unease seeps through the gaps between the leaves
Tombstones adorned with yellow lilies tilt their chins up
The sickly sweet flower petals detach limply from their stem.
They make almost no sound at all
Only a rustle to the scuttling ants in their bronze battle gear.
Miniature flames of cigarettes are stabbed into ceramic pots
Lipstick the color of drugstore wine rings the mustard yellow patch.
One more time.
The tang of sweat under neon yellow baseball caps is pungent and earthy
Fireworks erupt against black, vacuous space
Families with golden puppies huddle their small children on their laps
As they spill over their parents’ limbs to explore.
The goldfinch rests on its egg
When yellow will be brought in this world again
In a matter of minutes.
Artist Statement: My favorite color is summer yellow, so this poem is about all the yellow things that make me happy.
