A Poem by Jon Silvestri

And


Orange and red
Light from the wood stove,
Emerald and chartreuse
Accents of the oak leaves,

and the

Coral and poppy of her skin
Sit like paint on a
Palette of silver fog.

This morning
I could still taste
Her on my lips
And the flavor was
Cobalt with a faint
Hint of cerulean.

And in the afternoon
She shone in glimpses 
Of ivory and cream 
As she strode

Through iridium-shaded
Grass that dripped dewdrops
Of abalone and opal.

But it's evening now, and

She dozes
With her head in my lap,
Her charcoal and
Quicksilver hair soft
Beneath my hands
As she dreams in shades 
Of ruby and iridescence