༺ bucket ༻

popping the lid
on a violent heaven

ink
squiggles off the stick

bone ivory
annihilating into
cerulean blue
becoming sky
its aroma
intoxicating
a vibration
you can breathe

iris widens
pure magenta
cyan conjuring
with indigo
and jade

somehow eyes feel
the frequencies
down to the feet
redolent
with memory

summer’s goldenrod boyhood yellow

September’s burnt melancholy ochre

violet’s first amethyst kiss

red’s primal scarlet uproar

midnight’s longing blue quiet

forest’s calm emerald pulse

the ink by itself
was always more exciting
than any shapes they made
on paper

(accepted by Young Ravens Literary Review for their Summer 2023 issue)