A REPRINT OF WHITE OVER RED BY MARTH ROTHKO HANGS IN A POORLY LIT ROOM

with a line by Jean Valentine

by Stephen Energia Gifford-Bell

Red the color of trampled
motel carpet. Red of a truck left
in a field. Red of wine
bruising table cloth. Red
of bruising, of blood.
Red, the edge
of well smoked pork.
Red, a pair of hungry lips?
Red of a room with red
curtains. Red, a room
lit by news. Red of a darkroom.
Red. Strip mall tattoo shop.
Incinerator window. Brake light
through smog. Haze red. Lust red.
Curse red. Red a door in
the mountain. Red a wound
in the earth. Red, the living
room, eaten by red. Red whispers
over the picture window; Red whisps
mix with faint daylight.
Red, the cremation?
Red, the womb.
Rusted dusk. Red
of Rothko. Red of
Kubrick, of Miyazaki.
Red of my night,
let me sleep.

Stephen Energia Gifford-Bell is a white Ecuadorian nerd raised in Florida and residing in Patagonia. He was a DreamYard Project Rad(ical) Poetry Consortium Fellow and holds a BA in poetry from Warren Wilson College. His poems have appeared in HAD, DEAR Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. He’s trying to invite his ghosts to play.