It could have started like this.
My mother took me to fabric shops when I was a kid.
I would wander through the tall bolts dazed, reading
fortunes in the colours.


of the mock-orange flower
on its many stems.

Lavender, as an afterthought, necrotic –
carried interest.

like sunset in LA,
like dehydration.

The popular mauve-grey
which blends
indifference with innocence.


One is chosen
above her sisters.

One tells a troll
to eat his brothers.

An imp gives one
a way to spin
yellow into patronage.

One frills a frill
again and again.
No in order.
No as if.

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