Red Poem by Charlotte Ballard

Blood spurting from a cut vein –
Christmas velvet
A blush of a virgin bride
A sunburn after a day in the sun
Dr. Pepper cans
A stripe on a beaten prisoner back
Checkbook cover
Roses just opening
Toe-nail manicure
Salsa dancer’s lips
First menstrual blood
Teddy Bear shirt
Candy bags
Fire Engine Trucks
A coal burned down
Blown up again
A child’s balloon
A kiss still encased
In plastic lips.
Hearts and Diamonds
Flipped in passing.
Words shouted in print
My last memory of you.
Write a poem about trying to get along with a differcult person.

My mother weeps tin tears
As she taps on the telephone wire
Sending code, demanding directions
Each private and impossible to decipher.

I could decode the random taps,
Or write paid on Christmas cards
On over priced gifts, grabbed from
Frumpy housewives still in footies.

I could be the soft fur rug under
Each step begged and tangled
In green clinging vines that
Reach up gentle, only to rip flesh
Every time she speaks.

Both born out of one desire, mine
To flee, and hers to grip, and I’m
Not sure yet who will win this undeclared
Battle, except that my footsteps echo there.
A price to be paid

There’s a price to be paid
For singing in the rain
For dancing in the shadows
For grabbing the brass ring.

There’s a price to be paid
For the curve of a baby’s cheek
For the scent of roses spent
For the song of birds in winter

There’s a price to be paid
To take a step forward
To lead a horse to water
To take the great leap

Each price bound up in tripilicate
Typed out on the gray paper of
Watery days, stamped three times
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