Your Eyes


Your Eyes


what color are your eyes


you know that’s my favourite color


well not really


I guess my favourite color is

a sort of cerise

you know the red of sherry

when you spill it on an eagle white rug

just as it soaks in a little

I love that red

can’t get enough of it


though I do really like the impact

of a sudden spurt of blood

on newly fallen snow

blood warm enough to melt sink

clotted crimson in a thin gleam of ice

that is a sweet color too

or the tinge of a bruise after the third day

when the blue black is ebbing out

to that green blush along the edges

until finally it becomes as faint

as a finger print on a knife point


or a the kiss of a rose

trodden underfoot in a muddy field

after the police have searched for days

looking for clues

the dark deep brown of fresh dug earth


or ground recently patted down

to a sort of smooth quality

like skin untouched for a year or so

dried in the corner of a basement

who knew Aunt Sally was down there

we thought she had gone back to Florida

I love the color of her eyes

what was left of them anyway

a beige blackened

with whites jellied dried pink rose petals


so I love the color of your eyes

yes that has to be nearly

my favourite color in the whole wide world

free01 what Aunt Sally left behind

This piece was great fun to write and is even more fun to perform. I enjoy the child-like tone that it sustains even while the content becomes more and more macabre.

The innocent opening line about eyes becomes more sinister but not in the expected ways. The vividness of red on white as wine gives way to blood gives way to the almost sexual pleasure in the color changes of a bruise. The progression is natural and ups the ante as it goes along till it ends with that unsettling image of a finger print on a knife.


more of what Aunt Sally left behind

The tension abates slightly for the muddy field of police and more for the disappearance of the aunt, then ratchets up, I hope, quickly to the dried eyes and perhaps leaves the reader wondering if our speaker may have had more to do with Aunt Sally’s basement stay.


behind the sign of what Aunt Sally left behind

Then that final verse, back to a sort of flirtatiousness, as if the speaker was unaware of the strangeness of what was shared or as if that strangeness was perfectly ordinary, possibly even amusing and seductive.


October 19 – feature – Cabaret Noir – Pinebow


November 1-30 – participating – NaNoWriMo 2014 –



red under newly fallen snow

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