Orange

Back there in the deep orange valley
you threw your arms up and waved
a metered hello-goodbye to each 
and every color you could see.

They could not be counted on hands or feet,
fingers or toes, 
in sunspots 
or in veins. 
But the married colors called.
They look happy, you said.
They taste like candy, you said.

You guzzled the candied-apple sky
and mocked the spotty minefields
that tortured you 
and held you
dangling 
in opalescent suspense. 
You rummaged for the spectrum, 
but stumbled singularly upon 
orange. 

Take off your makeup.
Strip the color-blasted walls and paint them eggshell blue.
A safe shade. 
Forget the din that this iridescence makes.
Colorblindness might be good for a change.

——

Shani Abramowitz is a Chicagoan-turned-Bostonian-turned New Yorker. Shani is the founder and EIC of {Prong & Posy}, a new online lit mag. Shani is currently working on a forthcoming collection of poetry, ‘Letters to Unborn Daughters.’ Shani also knits, sings loudly in the shower, and won’t throw away her old notebooks.

——