tintype
- Sebastian Jack
- Jul 11
- 1 min read
Updated: Aug 2
the morning sun would light your eyes
in WAYS that made me
think of olden
colours in the ANCIENT DYES
of photographs and
stories told
when pigments seemed to LACK the hues
that load our bandwidth..
feed our swipes
as fuel the RAINBOWS we confuse
with overwrought, our
dayglow stripes
-
my view of you in BED of BRASS..
the noises made when
making love
with shades of bister mixed with glass
in HAZEL PANES for
dreaming of
our sleeping late as limbs unwound
with covers tossed when
coffee LATE
to brew, as day was FAT AROUND
and creaks of mattress
couldn’t wait
-
for finding you, was unprepared
for UMBER CASTS of
amber paint
the breathless beige, unready, scared
of SUBTLE TRACES..
chromas faint
too used to loud, emblazoned, thick
IMPASTO DAUBS and
stiffened tints
when light through window, RUSSET BRICK
found cinnamon in coffee..
hints
-
of you in blush of PASTEL glows
that lean to browns and
henna buffs
is all I need through prism.. grows
the SEPIA that feels
enough
I look again, and there you SLEEP
thru noon in whispers..
muted sounds
of neighbor’s vinyl, find I meet
you tween the sheets in
colours FOUND