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K. Edward Dunn
The Only Orange, Otherwise
Orange was the color of her dress, then blue silk; and
she was a poet at her podium, thumbing through her
pages like an upright bass solo, the rest of the quartet
quieting down; tension and resolution, tension and
resolution, improvise, improvise, improvise. Love off
the cuff, the way it was first designed; or else an old
folksong concerned with the color of my true love's hair
or the color of your eyes in the morning when you rise.
A world without orange: no sun, no shine, no she once
was a true love of mine. No, but I suppose it would be
fine; three-quarter time and a regular end rhyme.
Colors, blue in green like a pond in July as I wonder
and wander through cooler long nights, and the only
orange is a red neon sign, and the only orange is the girl
I've left behind, and the only orange that once was mine
is the only orange, otherwise.
©2012 by K. Edward Dunn
K. Edward Dunn lives and writes in New Jersey. His work has most
recently been included in the WestWard Quarterly and the Eunoia
Review.
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