Sit down at the kitchen table.
Somehow a red marker;
the rose explodes in a fury as
the encounter with your ugly sexist boss
is relived, accepted, purged.
A crimson highlight on the edges of a sun-drenched petal,
and put the red away.
And the daffodil is a sudden gold,
his smile across the office of good morning.
Saturate the frog with brown and green,
Forgive the envy in your eyes at the silken glow of
the woman with the rich boyfriend.
And spend the rest of an hour
relaxing in miles and miles of aquamarine sky.
October 28, 1992