“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Obfuscation
You never asked-
but I like the cool honesty
that the steel blue fractured light
throws against the walls of an empty room.
Your preference of warmth
makes me flush,
a bit hot
and rash.
As you know,
astrophysicists and amateur astronomers
use both spectrums
to learn about light
and discover new worlds
neither real blue nor red.
Me-I liked to walk in the woods in the dark
just to see or feel
my way.
I also rested in my closed
toy chest, inside the closet
with the bones and Barbie heads,
with my eyes closed tight-
yet could still see red.
You see,
I find
the absence of light briskly
more welcoming to me,
but it is just tepid white to you
I thought.
Painting By Abbott Handerson Thayer (Princeton University Art Museum) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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