deepundergroundpoetry.com

Paint

 
(NaPo #4, April 4, 2018)


May said not to be afraid
of color, she, with
the Auschwitz tattoo
on her wrist.

She’d lived a thousand lifetimes, yet
her eyes still danced
at the prospect of a
lovely violet, ready
to adorn some wall.

It is no wonder
that May took all the colors
and hoarded them in her store,
passing them out
one by one, to
those who needed a hue
of their own;

she surpassed the grays
of imprisonment, keeping
hope alive.

I took her advice, and
became brave—

It looked lovely in the can,
the paint, but
even more right, on its intended
target.

Each time the insatiable urge
comes, to pick up the brush,
I always ask

“What would May, choose?”
MadameLavender
Written by MadameLavender
Published
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