red

the underbelly of something
dying
the blood coursing thru veins
bulging
the sun squatting just before
darkness
the billowing morning flags
over the people

blue

the faded edges
of forgotten places

the waters once were

the empty room with filled ashtrays

“Gauloise Blue,” Robert Motherwell

green

backs
with envy

on the other side
hoping
it is

yellow

pollen
a child’s sun

dry land
lemonade
piss

being called coward
the face of the old
a submarine to look for

black

clubs    behind eyes
spades    prospects
hearts    without
beautiful    you

* * *