head full of hair, like the red on my son’s head,
red like my face, I wonder of the blood that did circulate
around the tumor that formed just behind her eye

the red i saw
like a man going blind, eyes irritated at the sun’s presence
bloodshot like mine, with anger on those drunken nights I cursed a god in heaven

I wonder if my baby saw red like I did
when, my eyes burning, filled with tears at the news of her death.
Those lovely red curls that now make a pillow for her final place of rest..







© 2013 Patrick W. Hamilton
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