Grenoble Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

we
dance...

each
daubs
a color....

yours, orange.....
mine, chartreuse...

yours, azure
mine, rose madder....

these colors do not touch....
they do not bleed...

dancing
on
a canvas
each
color
is
an
act
of
playful, questioning
speech...

of
silence....

again, speech....

again...
a burnished silence.....


flamenco
calls
from
the room
next door.........
a proud vibrato.....
the colors
on the canvas
answer....
quiver...
pulse....
feast on the rhythms....