“Seek the Lighter Hue”
Seek the lighter hue in pastel conversation,
Hoards of daily mass conversion
Of the every act to some point in time—a little light diversion;
A mirage, an art for just a little while. For the mind a choice illusion,
An arbitrary sunset clause for replenishing, a flag unfurled
In the early hours of mint and red carnations in the dawn’s early munch
To satisfy a need to fill a shallow hour’s shadow before we lunch.
She knows she needs but say the word
—I’m gone—with no one near enough to hear her scream.
As in the downshift, here fickle seasons deem
It time to shrink all auspicious moments to a tight knot. If the Gorgon stays
She’ll have her way with nothing left to say.
Did she really think it wise to mitigate the circumstance of every rule
With aphorism stitched on store-bought linens primed for workmanship on
Cloth, the only real estate, the final use for all those golden spools?