Issues, Colors by Belinda Subraman

From the ‘Poems From The Corner”


I can no longer tell
the color of pale walls.
They all seem to have a touch
of green or blue
but I am told they are white or gray.
What trick of reflection is this
that I can tint walls
with my mind?

My father asks,
“It won’t be long now, will it?”
My mother says, “Don’t tell me.
I can’t think about it.”
I deny denial
and simply see color
where there is none
though we each, in turn,
walk the long white hall
into gray, into black,
into nowhere known.


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