Observations in Red

Red truck passed me on the interstate
            Red truck full of roses (I swear I could smell them)
Red scrap metal in the back of another truck—
            Red rust, everything I’ve ever dreamed of
Red sunburn on the back of your neck, I see
            Red like it could match the strawberry wobbling in your palm
Red juices spilling from the corners of your mouth
            Red, making me wish I, too, had sprouted from the ground
“Red was my best friend,” my sister said when she called
            Red—well, he wasn’t my friend at all
Red food coloring is what I’m going to add to your ice cream this afternoon
            Red vanilla as it slides down the cone, onto your hand
Red can be so sticky, so strange
            Red: Look at this fine wine; talk to me, tell me about its legs

About Kayla Pongrac

Kayla Pongrac is an avid writer, reader, tea drinker, and record spinner. Her work has been published in Vinyl Poetry, Split Lip Magazine, and HOOT. When she's not writing creatively, she's writing professionally—for two newspapers and a few magazines in her hometown of Johnstown, PA. Follow her website and Twitter.

Post Navigation