by Marian Park
Art by Advait Patil
Issue: Mirage (Summer 2014)
A single word falls from your lips
and shines through a prism glass, spilling
rays of colors into the dim morning light.
It’s always in the morning
in the midst of foggy air and cloudy mind
when your words get shrouded in seclusion
only to emit a gamut of colors, one color –
unfathomable and lonely,
lightly smeared against gray.
It’s 7 in the morning, one of the 31 gloomy days in May
and I’ve been trying to calculate the angle of deviation
of your word based on the fringes of colors it released,
but all I can say is that there’s a 90% confidence interval
that the dispersion of light can only be traced back
to a single color buried beneath an abyss of white.