I wrote this for breast cancer awareness. Now that it's safely past the due date of your blog entry I thought I'd post it here.
Pink
for Lyn
It's the softness of the color
when worn by a rose or Rosa
wrapped in a cashmere sweater
inviting me to eat mayo mixed with beets ensalada rusa se dice
in soft tones looking at me sadly
as if this loss of what made me — me —
were all there ever was to me.
I seek a new definition:
bold blue hair, crisp crimson skirt, black lace, black velvet, purple —
anywhere and everywhere.
I refuse to be reduced to a ribbon
in your memory.
Remember how we walked October's arbors of yellow and green turning gold,
orange rowan berries dangling,
clouds scudding across an untroubled turquoise sky,
the leaves rustling,
and yet, pink —
how it cheered up that tiny cottage, its eaves trimmed in white.
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