Colour Cubes (Poem)

I have a way with words

each one a cube of colour and taste
from lion's brown to peacock's blue and from old England's green to Aunt Ethel's black
my cubes make sense to me

stacked in bright pillars inside my head
their light prises the dark
and along with the light
they smell divine
because
scented with meaning
and lingering all night
verses, posts become alight

But cubes are sharp and with edges that tear
and my mind is therefore affected
but to live damaged
with word-caused wounds and
volumes of sentences for friends
is a beautiful
colourful
existence.


Angela Norris