Prussian blue, deep and dark, is desired
but if the image comes through
even a lighter blue makes my heart dance.
As I wash the cyanotype beneath the shower,
tiger stripes in my photo sneak through
in blue, blue, glorious blue!
I dream in blue
get lost in blue
find myself in blue
blue days become blue nights
blue ocean waves wash away
the blues that will not leave me
blue skies illuminate horses
blue clouds brood above the dunes
blue on the beach is better
than the Blue Ridge Mountains.
My art moved to blue
reflected the blue inside me
the blues, the blues, the blues
the blame, the blame, the blame,
You’re becoming more Catholic
every day, my husband tells me.
My father’s eyes were light blue,
aqua blue, sparking blue, twinkling blue
but his eyes are shut now forever.
I still hear him, talk to him more now
that he’s dead than when he was alive.
This house, soon to be sided midnight blue,
like sea water, coastal waves.
The ocean calls to me, wants me home,
and I want to be there
and go to the Blue Crab Tavern,
best dive bar on the beach,
where nobody knows
the blues I run from.
Renee Williams is a retired English instructor, who has written for ONE Art, Alien Buddha Press and Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel.
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