Pantone 292
Sometimes, when I miss you,
colors come spooling out of me
organically. There’s no panacea
for the majestic blues. O you know
I’m a recluse, some deep longing
ajar like a petulant storm window
haphazardly hung. I am not
weatherproof nor winter ready. If you
never said it, I’d never wear gloves.
Let my hands get so merlot & cracked
in the malevolent January. This feeling
has a majesty, scattered headquarters.
Manufactured here & solid
as a coveted gem you’d keep
in a velvet drawstring sack. A shot
of Crown for your tribulations. O beautiful
fracture, interrupted amber waves
of grain. How did you fall into my lap?
I was lightly searching. Year of the
Radiant Orchid. Soon the blues
of lesser hues—Halogen. Zephyr.
Illusion. Opal. Wan. I miss
you in a whispering twilight
blue. A ball of yarn unraveling across
coasts, loop and pull. Loose thread
in the carpet systematically undoing
the floor. My heart’s carpeted shag,
soft to pass out upon after too many
blue sleeping pills. Drooling a puddle
into its aortic chambers. It’s pulsing
a message, saying don’t play fast
and loose with me. Don’t sleep here
too long. Expand your palette. Ride
out the whispering blue wind.
Charlotte Seley is a poet and writer from New York, who currently lives in Providence, RI. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College, where she served as Poetry Editor and Editor-in-Chief of Redivider. Her work can be found in Barrelhouse, LEVELER, H_NGM_N, and others. She is a reader for Ploughshares and loves the Magnetic Fields.