You might get the blues, some ocean-tinged fever
 

Turn red, vermillion smearing over bulging cheeks

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Be labeled black or white, crude delineations 

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Burn green with envy, pen purple prose, fade solemnly into a grayish fog

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But have you considered or even tried to yellow?

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Unfurling your light over the horizon

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Whispering to a morning, sticky with pollen and pulse and promise?

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Have you spilled saffron from your soul, tales from your tongue?

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Met grief with swiveled hip

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And sorrow with a soulful symphony?

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Crumpled slurs inside old newspaper, searing them with your defiant fire?

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Them other colors are something to have, hold, wear, drown yourself in

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But over here, yellow is what we be, what we do, how we forget and how we fight

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That poisonous politic and lurking predation

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Those fetid phantoms hungry to slice our souls

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Instead of catching that color, collapsing in a puddle

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We yellow our way through

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Scratching, singing, screaming, sashaying

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Wielding the heat of the sun and the spirit of the Sirens

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‘til even Despair has to squash his cigarette and smirk in awe at the audacity