In a city faraway made sightless long ago
A boy asks, “What is blue?”
A man, remembering fondly, answers,
“Blue is the color of the sea, and with the sea
God paints the world.
It is the color of its soul, and all souls,
If souls had color.
Blue is in the belly of the rainbow,
And the river that mimics the open sky.”
The confounded boy, never having witnessed the
Sea, souls, God, rainbows, or the open sky, asks
“But what does blue sound like?”
“It is the sound of a flute song,
And the flutter of wings midflight
And the sway of leaves
When you wake to dawn.
And at dusk, it is the horn of the lighthouse,
The call of the land to the sea bound,
A one-note song hanging in the night air.
I hear blue in the crashing star-yearned swells
Of tumbling waves.
It beckons for the speechless to speak
And the loveless to love,
To break tide, reach, fall,
And reach again.
“And does blue have a smell?”
“The scent of blue lingers in the breath of the evening wind, a whiff of Lilac
Or was it Jasmine?
It traverses the mountain, past the meadow and
Blows out the candle on your bedroom window.”
“And of what does blue taste? What is its texture?”
“The widow tastes blue
In the bitter salt of tears
That trickle down, a stinging blaze
And pour into her heart’s open wound.
And blue is the shrill and shiver
Of her involuntary cry, and the
Burn in her breast.
And Blue is tender lips kissing rain
That fall from weeping clouds.
And it is when you close your eyes
And drown the empty space
With brisk silence
And sit, thinking, sinking, unafraid.”
“Blue is the slow wink of nightfall,
The draped velvet veil that blankets
Soft poetry made between sheets.
It is the warmth of a body in bed
And the cool of the August air
That brushes the bare arch of her back.
Blue is waiting for the noise to cease
And for the tide to wash away the sand
Between your toes.
It is the wolf’s howl,
And the hair caught in the wind,
And the frost forming on your lashes.
Blue is the ink in your veins,
That bleeds onto the page
And blue is the afterthought of an idle fantasy
Lost in the haze, the graveyard of