It starts
bright as lemons
fresh cream churned to butter
love’s weight in our hands     promising

We stitch
our lives slowly
and dye the joined fabrics
our saffron     turmeric     mustard

and so fragile
we pack our love away
like a yolk in its shell     waiting
to break

The whites
of your eyes turn
beige in our photographs
head down     arms at your side     looking

No     love
we are cowards
standing in fallow fields
we’re sunflowers in November

It starts
our lives slowly
we stow our love away
head down     arms at your side     looking

This is a garland cinquain for yeah write’s poetry slam. Click the badge to read other awesome cinquains and other poetry forms, and short fiction.

*Things are good in my relationship. It’s fiction. Promise.

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I am a writer for an e-Learning course vendor near Chicago.

12 thoughts on “Yellow”

  1. Nate, great cinquain, first off. And…I love Yellow! This worked for me on every level. Nice job. Every relationship weaves new colors into their tapestry. Ochre doesn’t have to be a choker. ha

  2. This is stunning, Nate! I love the physicial spacing between the words, and the rhythm of pausing that creates. The lack of punctuation works so well here, which always impresses me when it’s done well. “The whites / of your eyes turn / beige in our photographs” is such a lyrical, vivid and original way to show the passage of time.

    1. That was a late decision because I wanted the stanzas to slide into each other like decades of time. We started ‘here’ and all the sudden we’re ‘there.’ So I pulled out punctuation.

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