Light pollution
enhances her cravings
for the perfect
constellation, for an evening
spent outdoors
without fear. Each wave
lengthens or shrinks
to spell out
new acts of bravery
in a host of colors
beginning with red,
ending up yellow
just before it turns
green. Snow piled
on a skylight won’t last.
color
Day 1,256
She dreams of exploding
into tiny corkscrews
of stained purple paper
dropping onto a wooden floor.
She wishes she could inspire you
to rage over the mess.
She cannot understand
how you might sweep away
or ignore the color
she believes she might become
if only she could break open
her relationship to trees.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 