How Red Worked

On days as dull as this
It is hard not to shudder
And speculate that colour is now an artefact
of a former age
and you can’t remember
how red worked
or if pink was important
and was it yellow or purple
that made you overly sentimental?

On days as dull as this
It becomes hard to bleed
You find your soft skin at the mercy
Of blunted angels
And you think fondly of when
feathered patterns rose upon your arms
and sharpness flooded your mouth
and you knew
how red worked

on days as dull as this
it is hard to entertain
any thoughts of the past that don’t contain
elements of loss
the perfection of pink denim hot pants
the curl of yellow hair
across a brand new purple shirt
and finding a new way
how red worked

Gary Priest writes poetry and short fiction, both of which have been published online and in print. He lives in the UK at the end of a dead-end road, which may explain everything.

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2 Responses to How Red Worked

  1. Quite an interesting speculation, like trying to rediscover the truth of alchemy. Thanks.

  2. Lise Colas says:

    Wonderful poem–I like the way pink, yellow and purple become the colours of lost love at the end, with red getting the last word, of course 🙂

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