It's Still Life

What Do You See

I see a spill
      of cognac,
silk and chalky grey,
an astral lay and
failing light.
Uncorked oak,
and an open slack,
warming earth, and
a morning road for
      those of faith,
a song, and
a religious scent.

And the remains of a day that chooses us.

There’s syrup of autumn,
turmeric flesh,
a poem for Poe addressed
      to Dearest, it’s
an unknown name.
Heavy air and
future black,
the colour of sun,
of brass,
of scorch.
My grandmother’s skin.
A sight that
       leaves me blind.

This day, and what remains, has chosen us.

Miz Quickly wants to play with colour names, and possibly a sandwich the size of a car. Image is a micro-abstract from Denys Nevozhai on Unsplash. Poem inspired by Visual Verse on Instagram. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021