is not what defines color,
for this poem I wrote was before love,
before the darkness poured
a half bottled week,
painted so quickly
into bent back fear.
The shades, that keep
our days and nights,
before the slow witness
of our time,
where no one directs
what's right or wrong
but an outgrown canvas,
gliding paler down chests
of past and ties.
How I wish to catch another glimpse
of your black pewter dress, how I could
touch your rising arms, not to wake, but
to be woken in your dreams.
How I wish of your colors, outside all
spectrum, no different from different
springs than my distant aged eyes-
How those gaits, I choose
to follow, of a permafrost you,
a light that needs more flint
than your little song you always
- Stanford Cheung 2016
Stanford Cheung is a Canadian poet and musician from Toronto. He is the author of the chapbook "Any Seam or Needlework" from The Operating System Press (2016).