After the Catastrophe
1. Colors
sunrise blazes
over the lake;
orange reflecting;
orange tinged with pink;
a harbinger of the chromatic
pain of the day;
what a scream
of tormented surrender
would look like
in a painting;
lake sky sun
glass metal fire;
not a new day
but an awful new way
of being;
months of sunrises
that mimic heat
more than give light;
stuck in a burning
titian moment
on a flamingo time loop;
the people’s mouths
taste of copper.
(cont.)
2. Direction
Start at the bottom
of what is framed
in the window, the swath
of icy mercury lying north and south.
Move your eyes up to the mirrored fire.
Up to the black line of trees straight ahead.
Up and due east to the fire itself.
Tilt your chin to find the citron
sky cooling itself by pouring
up into the unfurnished beryl’that stretches into frozen
vast blackness, pinned with stars
winking still, though the people
say they are already cold and dead.
(cont.)
@LKNWoman Is that like there is no place like home?
@catlynne333 It’s the last lines of a longer poem. See the posts just prior to that one. ✨
Now. Close your eyes and remember:
the stars are not dead.
Suzanne B. Leitner
#CoSoPoetry