April 2015
I live, write, and teach in Appleton, Wisconsin--about 35 miles south of the "frozen tundra." I am fascinated by good paper, poetry and the way ink moves forward on the blank page and words trail behind like a snake shedding its skin. Winner of the 2003 Main Street Rag Chapbook contest, I am the author of the collection A Theory of Lipstick (Main Street Rag: 2013) and seven chapbooks of poetry. Widely published (poetry, reviews and interviews), I was awarded a Pushcart Prize in 2011. www.karlahuston.com
Yellow
If yellow could whisper,
it would not drone about
bodily humors. It would say
sunlight even on the most
frigid of days and later
it would whisper in the soft
talk of spring, translate
the singing of crocuses
into the mumble of birds.
It might try to echo the bells
of tulips, the trumpeting throats
of daffodils, hum with the small
yellow buds. If yellow could,
it would murmur light,
more light; it would whisper
your name in every dark corner,
then fill every sad heart with it.
©2015 Karla Huston