Martyr

R.A.D. Stainforth...another beautiful read...

I hate you for being red,

for strutting your faux wings

like a backwards goose ―

bow-legged wood underneath

an all-too-erect history,

wings not wide enough

to protect, or hide behind.

It is time.

I drag you, carpet-groove,

to the front door, armrest down,

living room monarch,

out on the chopping block

like Mary, Queen of Scots.

tk/November 2012

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redder

Once, I asked you, “Is scarlet the same as red?”

Hands across your chest, you said, 
“Scarlet is more red than red.”

I thought, “Is it possible
to be redder than red?”

Then, I remembered
O’Hara’s bow-hot lips,
The vivid A
On Hester’s breast;

Johansson’s erotic hips.

tk/April 2012

R.A.D. Stainforth's lovely reading: 

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image: Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954