The Mouth in Red

There are colours so deep, so pure

They drop beneath the colour word

Into a hue of inner meaning


There are some reds

That are not red, but blood

Not spilled, not end of life

But beginnings


When the red that is not blood

Speaks through the blood that is not red

And spills our life upon the opened palms

Then it is wise to listen


With a listening that is so deep

That red, alone, dares speak

Its name.

©Stephen Tanham