Another Bruise

07 April 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: the colour says it all

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Another purpling, yellowed, the stark creature of the body rising to instruct the brain, the thinking

Qualified misery, an intentional distancing, epic reverberations at the failure of an instinct, a coming up with grips as

Discrete disclaimers, toying the imagination into halfhearted orgasms, bottling and corking the heart in an effort

To be more than another bruise, but colouring just the same, the stake and whip of earlier worlds

Shadowing a sunlight grafted to this horizon, still clinging to its half of the moon, challenges the dark

To come find a place to hide, new feelings in the shoes, stabbed and corpse-like in shallow grass, still looking around

For an orientation point, a map, a compass needle sticking out of the field, turning nothing, but makes you think it did.

J.D. Harms 2021

Prompt:

So, so very often, we’re struck, and left, with the colour, the hues of a scene, event. It’s interesting to think about how such experiences would linger in a person who has synaesthesia. And, of course, we frequently use the colour itself to connote a particular mood or feeling. However you seek to…