by Marge Piercy<\/p>\n
Purple as tulips in May, mauve
\ninto lush velvet, purple
\nas the stain blackberries leave
\non the lips, on the hands,
\nthe purple of ripe grapes
\nsunlit and warm as flesh.<\/p>\n
Every day I will give you a color,
\nlike a new flower in a bud vase
\non your desk. Every day
\nI will paint you, as women
\ncolor each other with henna
\non hands and on feet.<\/p>\n
Red as henna, as cinnamon,
\nas coals after the fire is banked,
\nthe cardinal in the feeder,
\nthe roses tumbling on the arbor
\ntheir weight bending the wood
\nthe red of the syrup I make from petals.<\/p>\n
Orange as the perfumed fruit
\nhanging their globes on the glossy tree,
\norange as pumpkins in the field,
\norange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
\nwho come to eat it, orange as my
\ncat running lithe through the high grass.<\/p>\n
Yellow as a goat\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wise and wicked eyes,
\nyellow as a hill of daffodils,
\nyellow as dandelions by the highway,
\nyellow as butter and egg yolks,
\nyellow as a school bus stopping you,
\nyellow as a slicker in a downpour.<\/p>\n
Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
\nsong of all the things you make
\nme think of, here is oblique
\npraise for the height and depth
\nof you and the width too.
\nHere is my box of new crayons at your feet.<\/p>\n
Green as mint jelly, green
\nas a frog on a lily pad twanging,
\nthe green of cos lettuce upright
\nabout to bolt into opulent towers,
\ngreen as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
\nglass, green as wine bottles.<\/p>\n
Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
\nbachelors\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
\nblue as Saga. Blue as still water.
\nBlue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
\nBlue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
\nazure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.<\/p>\n
Cobalt as the midnight sky
\nwhen day has gone without a trace
\nand we lie in each other\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s arms
\neyes shut and fingers open
\nand all the colors of the world
\npass through our bodies like strings of fire.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by Marge Piercy Purple as tulips in May, mauve into lush velvet, purple as the stain blackberries leave on the lips, on the hands, the purple of ripe grapes sunlit and warm as flesh. Every day I will give you … Continue reading