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Penelope, Yes by Natalia Treviņo Engaged they said, in the looming upstairs, Always, working her mind through the colors. Her fingers and threads dripped mandarin, cobalt. She remembered his ring hovering over her, lapis on forefinger, on gold while their skins moved below it, between it. She unravels all night, whispered her maids. They shunned the practice. They'd seen her once Covered in threads, eyes closed, her whole body In a stream of colors, thighs in purple, Arms golden, reddened. Her fingers lost Among the crossings of so many lines. © Natalia Treviņo « Home | Contributor Notes » Please comment on this poem. |
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