The Shades of Red

Toxic red
I am unmoved
by the way that vermilion
pollutes my mind--
makes me crazy
with rage
and passion
like a bull
in the ring.

You touch my thigh
like a plush and blushing
cushion in an unknown
room in an unknown city
in Italy or France
or maybe Montreal.
Europe and anonymous
affection is that close.

Please read poetry to me.
Love, look me in the eyes
and know that the language
you speak in a few words
is the Blood Moon rising,
is the color of the skin
of my sisters
in far off South Dakota,

is the antidote
for so much
sullen suffering.

This red
is unsustainable
and bold
and tastes
like the earth and prayers
sifted by the wind.