Orange yells out at me.
Orange became.
Was it scarlet or the boldness
of chili pepper fusing madly
with soft cornsilk?
Or did they take turns
With her silky strands?
Orange is at times
almost asleep,
a syrupy copper
tainted with cinnamon.
Orange
can wake and scream.
Deep down orange is dangerous,
its harsh edges sharp;
its motion chaotic as it reaches
out to me and screams
a cruel twisted bloodthirsty
howl.
Orange. A Judas to my retina;
a Hitler to my mind.
Passion Contents
Post Published: 12 September 2011
Author: Tanya Pilumeli
Found in section:
Poetry
Tanya Pilumeli has published poetry in The John Carroll Review, WildViolet.net and other publications. Her Web site is TanyaPilumeli.com. Her children's novel, The DragonFly Keeper, came out in 2008. A former English professor, she now divides her time between the Italian restaurant, Alessandro's, that she and her husband own; her three small children, Giuseppe, Violetta and Dionisio; and the ceaseless pleasure of translating the imagination.
Tags: 2011, fall, Poetry, summer
