All The Colors

Beyond winters chill
there lies a hopeful font of blood,
blue flies,
green flies,
black waters.
Everyone comes up short,
and everyone is a wet-nosed nudge away
from either soothed
or screaming.
There is a film of red over her eyes,
a flood of crimson,
a haze of anger
and well-meaning love.
All the colors of bruises
are hers to have.

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