Blood Eagles of Ancient Days
I see the potential of red –
red poppies are seedlings only an inch high;
the grey skies might be red at sunset, if the clouds shift
and my black lungs might be red if I last
enough for them to shake off twenty years of tar.
I almost bought an apple tree today
a red apple – Braeburn or Gala, I forget –
but last year we failed to use
the apples on the tree we have.
I put it back, trading my dreams for food;
the future for the here and now.
On my desk is a pot of cherry hair dye.
Dare I?
Or should I wait until I am old
and become a woman of scarlet
histories?
5 comments:
Do it! Don't wait. Enjoy it now!
You'll look fab! I just know it.
heh! Tempted!
Oh yes, do. When I was one of the 'Mad Women of Chaillot' I had bright read streaks and I loved them.
Oh, Rachel, this is superb.
Thank you both. I may wait until I'm greyer, rather than bleach.
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