Life without the sun
by jess shimer
Life without the Sun Your green eyes, I remember-- the leaves of trees, with the gray sky behind. Your black hair, how it fell in front of them, and your sooty temples. How beautifully you aged. My eyes failed us. Life without sun: cold claustrophobic cell, lone loss; vast darkness—I don’t see even phantom colors anymore. I painted watercolors once. My eyes failed us. Depth and time and space have little meaning. Warmth —I know the sun must exist-- yet no longer for me. Pigments? Preposterous! Fantastic fabrication! Your green eyes: a dream. Jason, my eyes failed us. |