Colors
Colors
Blood-red was all the rage that year — in the fashion magazines and the furniture showrooms. So, now we had the new loveseat, my mother’s find — the fabric called blood-red, but it looked older and dried up. Something closer to rust.
The walls of my room were a perfect sky blue and my bed was cotton ball white. I remember the morning Dad woke me early. He said, I have to go. He said, don’t believe what they’ll tell you. He said, and don’t forget. So, I never did. I dream it still, the rusty blood-dream, the fire they kept showing on the news and the car hanging off the cliff, smoke like a secret signal.
Deborah Bogen’s volumes of poetry include Speak Now This Charm, Jacar Press, In Case of Sudden Free Fall, Landscape with Silos, Let Me Open You a Swan, and Living by the Children’s Cemetery. She lives in Pittsburgh where she balances the poet’s life with grassroots political responsibility, playing music and growing a few things in the garden. You can get Speak Now This Charm at http://jacarpress.com/speak-now-this-charm/
