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Sometimes
I like to write in red
of blood and passion,
carnal sin,
of violence and
blinding rage—

the words leap wicked off the page.

Sometimes
I like to write in green
the deepest forests
haunt my eye,
fertile fields and
ancient earth—

the path I trace back to my birth.

Sometimes
I like to write in blue
of endless sky and
whispered winds,
of rivers’ crawl and
foaming seas—

the depth of possibilities.

Sometimes
I like to write in black
of desolation,
searing fear,
of shadow lives and
tragic deaths—

this is how I count my breaths.

 
This poem originally appeared in the 2009 collection Sixty-Six.