at college,
we were taught red is for danger.
black is for sorrow. white is for peace.
today,
it becomes the best way for me to
slice metaphors into poems;
in poetry,
the symbolism for good is white,
& bad is black – say a black bird perch
on your roof or
a black dog chases you into the mouth
of a dark room.
darkness too is black &
night alone is an allusion to darkness.
manna is white. angels wear white.
the devil is a castaway made of black.
I try to write this poem with imageries
that stand between summer & winter.
i look at my skin & see
bad metaphors,
bad symbolisms that touch
the gene.
god!
but you said everything you created
are all good,
& when you said man is created in your image,
did you mean by shape and not by colour?