by on October 4, 2016 :: 0 comments

Red, you are a mackerel
Or some such fish.

Pulsating in sprays of guts and
blood, strewn about a sidewalk,
on the edges of sanity frayed into
sickening patterns of politics,
Red, you are a statement
corroding my personal idealism.

Rotting in freshly laid out rules
about fornication and love, rusting
in the restricted, forbidden lanes
of fluid sexuality and consent,
Red, you are an emotion denied
entry into my veins.

Ageing to hotness in eyes
abandoned by hope, incubating in
anger that is horrible in its impotency
and lethal in employment,
Red, damn you, you are a sight
that makes me shiver.

Grotesque, insidious, controlled Red,
you misdirect by fashioning yourself
into an
innocuous color.

But I am on to you.

You are a red bloody carp.
Or some such fish.

– Damini Kulkarni

editors note:

What she said, when she saw Red. (Watch out Blue, she’s coming for you.) – mh clay

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