Well RedA Poem by Andrew JohnSonnetThe book is red, bright red, that’s plain to me. Okay, it’s black, but that’s just years of grime. It is the office dictionary, see? And when it is consulted - every time - a new thumbprint is left to join the rest. Across the years it’s been consulted - ooh, let’s see now - several thousand times at least; collects detritus from the desktop, too. Sometimes we check reality, exact; illusion is a well-thumbed word as well. Oh, yes, the book’s bright red and that’s a fact; you only have to look and you can tell. And yet we’re startled when that colour’s seen so brightly where my coffee cup has been.
© 2022 Andrew JohnReviews
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