This is the year of dark and moist forests
of your smile piercing branches
when the moon is too big to see
what is really hidden

On a complementary day
yellow + purple
you lifted your fingers to say hi
they spelled victory
I read two, I read light

Two days before we had tea
yellow, red
if we are to give things their real names
just like they make purple
to my unbalanced eyesight
just like
they make sense

The coming year is one of sherbet
mango, strawberry
soft-colored on your palate
acrid on mine
because I am addicted to the brownish kind of

As the moon decreases it shows
how much of ourselves
so that taste and color
can melt one into another
so that we can add numbers
to each other’s presence


Written for today’s Meeting the Bar, where Victoria C. Slotto invited us to write about synesthesia, which I have a very mild form (every digit has its color).