Crimson

Well, I made my girls class write poems today based on Sylvia Plath's "Yellow." They had to come up with 15 words or phrases that made them think of a specific color, and then fashion them into a poem. Here is my CRUDE attempt, simply because I like to write along with them.


As I pick up the tattered philosophy book,
worn at the edges and smelling of
intrigue and mystery,
I’ll let my mind smile and wander
to thoughts of summer heat
and cherry popsicles dripping down my fingers,
sunburns and kickballs,
island orchard candles and the scent of tangy comfort mixed with passion.
I’ll remember the crisp holiday scent of Christmas
and the scarlet ribbon of my white dress,
still covered in crumbs from candy cane cookies.
I’ll breathe in cinnamon and first kisses,
peppermint and spilled blood,
sweet candied apples.
And I’ll think that
gazing at the mobile swinging from the classroom ceiling
provides welcome diversion from this crimson intensity.