The Toll of the Sea

green means go, so run — now — 

green the color of the siren sea, whose favors are a mortgage upon the soul

red means stop, before the cliffs jag downward

red the color of the shore that welcomes

white the color of the man washed ashore, from his shirt to his pants to his brittle shoes

white the color of the screen before Technicolor

white the color of the master narrative

green the color of the ocean, so kind, not leaving a stain on the white shirt

green the color of the girl, so kind — but why?

She speaks: Alone in my garden I heard the cry of wind and wave

In the green girl’s garden, the stranger clamps her, asks:

How would you like to go to America?                A lie, soaked in the

red of the chokecherries that turn brown in the heat

red the color of the roses that spy

red the color of their fake marriage

white the color of the white man’s frown

She asks: Is it great lark or great sparrow you call those good times in America?

green the color of his departure

white the color of the counterfeit letters she sends to herself

white the color of their son

white the color of erasure

red the color of the lost footage

red the sea that swallows our stories

red the color of the girl who believed the roses

red the color of the ocean that drowns the girl

red the color of the final restoration

In every story, there is a Technicolor screen: black / white / red  / green

In every story, there is a chance to restore the color

If we recover the flotsam, can we rewrite the script?

blue the color of our recovered narrative

blue the color of the siren sea, which refuses to keep a white shirt spotless

blue the color of our reclaimed Pacific

blue the ocean that drowns the liars

blue the shore where the girl keeps living

There she rises, on the opposite shore

There she awakens — prismatic, childless, free — 

Shorn of the story that keeps her kneeling

blue is the opposite of sacrifice