Today's poem is by Molly Tenenbaum

After She Died, I Saw the Skull in Everyone
       

Who knew skulls came in such colors—
I counted those moving toward me,
paint chips for subtle interiors,
Meteor, Blue Milk, The Coo of the Dove,

Each moving toward me, Rosy Finch,
a flash of Golden Trout.
One of powdery Overcooked Yolk,
and Brown Scorch, like hot iron on a sheet.

And still coming, but which
is the last I shall see, the crowds
continuously approaching?

In the mirror, there's mine,
that underground cave
in Smoke Horses
I nod with my crystals and yellows,

Hello, with my cavern careening stone tools
across the floor's tilt while you speak,
our thoughts, the scrape,
our talk, a paint of burnt pine.

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Copyright © 2023 Molly Tenenbaum All rights reserved
from The Arborists
MoonPath Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission