a lithe panther with a devilish wink,
dawning pleasure, sparkling at the brink --
this is what it means to be pink.
endless band-aids over the places you bled,
soft hands pulling apart a loaf of fresh bread --
this is what it means to be red.
flowers growing from the dropped syringe,
the floodgates open, no more in storage --
this is what it means to be orange.
a chestful of light, a drink warm and mellow,
tired smiles, empty plates, a glass of limoncello --
this is what it means to be yellow.
a crown of woven ivy for the forest queen,
laughing and tripping our way down the ravine --
this is what it means to be green.
rocking, stomping, heavy bass noise,
the hot press of bodies, neither girls nor boys --
this is what it means to be turquoise.
a peregrine diving in breathless corkscrew,
a heron raising its head, glistening deja vu --
this is what it means to be blue.
dripping wax and runes cast in a glowing circle,
love as a truth so painfully universal --
this is what it means to be purple.