543 Day Writing Journey

Purple. Day 46.


Revision in writing is what offers color to a piece, no matter the genre. I am forever editing and revising old works, and today have decided to paint a poem I wrote for a chapbook I put together a year ago, and the color I used is grape.

Purple Memories

Grape, purple taffy.
Melted and softened by your warm mouth.
Molten fragrant purple.
Scent not like wine or fruit.

Reminds me
of a place
with the same perfume.
Not now or here.

Candy that smells like
a time when you were small.
Maybe in North Carolina
during summer.

I drive and look forward
to see you behind me,
in your car seat.
The velvety one

With the black and white
cow print.
Your yellow hair points up
to the handprints on the light gray ceiling.

A Tootsie Pop stick with
little pink crystals
adheres to the seat’s crease.
Still alive.

A thin strand of drool dances
from your mouth’s corner
to your baby chin.
You leave it be.

It will catch the coarse, white sand
from Onslow Beach.
And dissolve in the warm bubbly bath
later at home.

Your swollen pupils
search the hand
for the next bite.
My eyes back to the road.

Your giggle is bubbly,
as the dog sways with the van.
So I grabbed the wheel
and swerved again.

June sunshine burns my left arm
prickling the cold bumps,
from the internal, iced air.
Bare toes rest over the brake.

Young marine gate guard,
nod, gun, smile.
We may proceed.
Close window, press gas.

The purple scent moves with
the conditioned air
as we drive
to a memory.

And your pops was
not gone, but
somewhere else.
Driving an ambulance
or fighting a fire,
or waiting for us on the back-porch step,
sipping a crispy Busch Light.

1 thought on “Purple. Day 46.”

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