From red I came.
To red I will go.


From prismatic passion
of parental love
came ambient genesis
of wombful blur,
the first colour I saw,
the last I will savour,
before my lashes
sweep their last
gliding shut
eclipsing flame of red
mirrored in my lenses
of brown.

And if enticed
down the nuptial aisle
that seemingly verdant boulevard,
I would shamefully relish
the cries of ‘Jezebel!’
stepping upon the aisle
bedecked not demurely in ivory
or some other moral shade of white
but rather, in a particularly
scandalous shade of red,
my phoenix heels clicking imperiously
upon the flagstones of gold.

And when my heart
gushes its final bloodfall
don’t dare to lay me down,
prop me up! (elegantly of course)
upon a bank of crimson cushions,
drape me scarlet,
paint my nails, daub my lips
with rouge du Liban.

And don’t dare to talk in muted tones
about how sad (or perhaps how bad),
but dance instead for
Red, unleashed, uninhibited,
with one finger rebelliously raised
to the judgmental spectrum
spanning God to Satan.

And while the sable cinders
return me to earthly embrace
I will be far away,
still tasting claret on bitten lip,
still spinning pirouettes upon a poppied bedrock,
still fixing my laser beams, my heart’s desire
upon the reasurring blaze
of a sunset,
Forever Red.