The Reproductive Language of Colors
By Philip Jason
The difference between the earth and the sky
is not always obvious to me.
The flowers seem to grow from both places at once.
I still know of other differences:
bones become brittle but dreams do not.
Holes are perfect, but doors are not. And colors,
they procreate unlike all other things:
to make a new color, two colors vanish into each other.
It’s what I imagine the gods imagine to be divinity, you tell me.
If we were in a mystery, your body would be a bookcase
and I would search it for a way in.
Instead, I think of a line from the fourteen thousand
one hundred and eighth version of the bible.
This, I say, is why the best joy makes us feel sad
and full of life at the same time;
it turns us into roots that secure the flower,
it turns us into light that falls gently into the flower’s mouth.