Blue Winter Room
Blue morning witch of the ice piercing and
cracking skeletal hopes in the frigid atmosphere

Blue radio in the friendless living-room
drab words on cold news for the confined

Blue music in the long silence of our gray valley
bruised intimacy of failed introspection

Blue felt rug on gray cement, thin protection
against mildewed poverty under frozen clay feet

Blue curtains of cheap flannel hand sewn in
hues of home and steadfastness

Old blue bedpan, rusty flower-holder,
dried gentian hung on stark naked walls

Blue speckled enamel, cool water pitcher
on the neat tablecloth of clear emptiness

Navy gingham little squares against clean white,
clean sink, clean plates, clean empty

Ancient blue stove of massive cast-iron,
starved for wood or coal in a poor village

Blue flax woven into the linen sheets of our
wedded throes under moth-eaten blankets

blue-gray smoke in the small room, stale air
of the intellect of stalemated players

Prussian ink on lined paper, smeared sentiment
all over the pages of a spiral notebook

Faded blue housecoat of negligence in sloppy
solitude and coffee stains of an ugly morning

Blue denim of your empty jeans on the clothesline,
empty long legs of long wish and anguish

Darkest navy my skirt like the pleated uniform
of a catholic youth in rebellious reform

And the billowing wool cape to better hide
to better fly to better cry, oh dear

Cerulean painting, unreal above cumuli
of my slow dream, ethereal on blank sky

Crystalline aquamarine of my birthstone,
late card of last year and tears of this year

Grey cat curled on his cushion radiating
simple needs in eyes of turquoise

Blue veined, my hand on his warm fur
in the prolonged winter of realization

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