I wrote this poem in 2021 but did not take the photo. As with most of my poetry, I set it aside and just now re-read it. I think it aged well, but did it yellow as it did so? |
Yellow by Sara J. Glerum
an adjective
an intransitive verb
when it’s painted on a bus
we know who’s inside
when it’s painted on a car
we know we could herald it
it’s uninvited like dandelions
and sour like lemon pucker
tasty like spread on warm bread
lends its fragrance to cheese
and radiates from sweet corn
it’s my favorite precious metal
and my long-gone teddy bear
and the gorgeous linen sundress
stained into ruin by breast milk
it’s the color of breast milk itself
it heralds spring with highlights
it beams through summer sun
it warns of coming autumn
and perks up winter drab
it’s my birth month’s flower
and a child’s crayoned stars
it can make people happy
except when it’s their teeth,
eyeballs or a tuxedo shirt
it can make a person sad
when it overtakes a book
or crinkles a long-saved letter
when our mother departed earth
we asked the florist to weave a pall
of roses in her favorite hue and
yellow became for us her daughters
the color of heartbreak
the color of devastation
the color of mourning
the color of memory
it’s rarely seen in gloomy paintings
except to make the dark seem darker
and on its own it bursts with joy
like angels shining forth
to quench our thirst for light
1 comment:
BEAUTIFUL!!
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