Implications of Color and Space

Implications of Color and Space


That isn’t what happened, for we kept climbing up,
past rammed earth, walls stuccoed and white-washed,
while the doors stayed closed and we kept on wearing
our bodies, not thinking what we’d do if they came
unbuttoned after standing for days without sleep,
after beatings, accusations about our secret code.

How much does the state weigh? The courts of justice?
The machines and factories—how much, all of it?
And don’t tell me you don’t know, take a while
to think it over, then tell me how much.
We thought how we would answer such questions
as we went on mounting the hill into the white city.

Song surrounded us: small birds in small cages above us
on the balconies, water in the tinkling gutter, bicker
of magpies, broom rasping the cobblestones: I did it.
But blue escaped from the morning glory climbing beside us,
from cobalt doors, washed over potted plants and steps up,
and suddenly the past swept on to somewhere else.

Copyright © Mary Crow
—first published in Field
Oberlin College Press
Posted over on Mary Crow's Blog