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

11 Comments on “The Mouth in Red

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