spreads beautiful to darkness Feb 12, 2018

(a link-wise reflection of etouffee's writeup)

a grain of pigment, a drop of rain
the pattern of the edges of spilled liquid
not anything like the crab nebula

according to your color palette ("green, for the caterpillars")
i pour paint ("orange, like your cheeks... close enough anyway")
slowly onto the canvas ("yellow, for the sky in the morning, reflected")
the immediate realization ("blue, like the night, and the sound of the wind")
this will be nothing ("red, for blood, for the sun when you close your eyes")
like what i imagined ("black, for the great void of space")

hits me like an apple through a screen door
cut into hundreds of tiny columns
delicious shredded fruit
covering everything in the kitchen

not kissing (which grounds me)
nor rolling down hills (which just makes me happy)
you can only make me dizzy if you're spinning me in leaves or snowflakes
or reminding me that in a billion years, the sun will explode
sending atoms of every type out in all directions
somewhere to eventually become