Colorblind

She remembered in colors,
dyed bright into the back
of her mind and creeping
forward when she let down
whatever guard she had.

----

Red, for the rich-burned
soil around her old house,
red for the mud that
caked around her bare
feet in the summer when
thunderstorms churned
the rivers into devils.

Fire-bright yellow for
the sun that burned her
shoulders pink and freckled
as she bent over the weeds
in the garden that looked
as wilted as she felt.
She almost felt sorry
pulling them up. Hadn't
they endured enough?

Dark rich brown for the
skin of the boy who lived
across the rocky stream
behind her house, dark
chocolate-cake brown
fingers in her own
vanilla hand as they
balanced on the stones
on the hot days when
the sun made the dogs
pant on the cool wood
of the porches. She
wasn't yet old enough
to go to school and he
had started last year
and when she asked him
about it all she could get
him to say was "I think
you'll get better books."

Green for the ring of
grass he tied around her
finger and she asked
"does that mean you'll
marry me?" and he shrugged
and turned away to throw
a rock in the stream.

Purple-pink, the color of
the flowers hanging heavy
off the bush behind her
house, the exact shade
of her father's face
as he asked, demanded
"you're friends with
that black boy?"
"Yeah," she told him,
hoping he'd go back to
being Daddy again and
not this tall rough
man at the dinner table.
"He's gonna marry me."

Gray, dark as the thunderclouds
marring the sky in the
bright afternoons--gray
of her father's eyes
sparking with lighting.

Yellow of her mother's
hair falling over her
face like a shield as
her gentle voice explained
that white girls didn't
talk to black boys,
didn't make friends,
didn't marry. "Why
not?" "Honey, he's not
our color. He's not us."

----

She remembers things in colors
before she stopped being
able to see them, before
the world was monochromatic,
before everything was in
black and white.