Where? Where? Where?
“Achieved poetry paints with at least one colour
which can be found nowhere else.”
~ Michael Schmidt, The First Poets, 19
Do you know just what that color is? Gods’
Eyes must contain it—goddesses’ more so—
Yet can we see it there? Perhaps it nods
At us with holy winks above the slow
Convictions of a palm tree’s fronds before
The sacrifice by priests in island shades.
Perhaps it gives us glimpses from the floor
Of marble temples. Mostly it evades
Us. That is why it matters. Those who grasp
The color, artisans with words, do not
Themselves know what it is. Fists barely clasp
It in their lines. The hue hates being caught.
..Once found it fades. It must be caught again.
….The rainbow trout gasps out in air-filled pain.