Orange

The universe is not always black.

The dwarf star sun seethes
yellow, intumesces to giant red

and marigolds fire in the heat, hot
petals wilt for alien bees buzzing

by the eye. The big eye barges
on an orange river of soylent faith—

Big Brother watching with
red anger and yellow courage.

Tennessee is on the orange brink:
color-blind blue and gray mixing

on the spray-painted field, blood
-shot eye hanging above Earth.

This is what remains: Seeing
yourself seeing the tainted truth.

What do you see? Me
in orange? Or is it just the color

of skin under the wrong sun?
Maybe it’s my blood—not red

but orange with hope. Not alive
but not dead. I see you, too,

in the hymn of forgotten colors.