You may need to turn your screen sideways for the table layout below.
wild garlic &
hands rough with washing and traffic-light face
glowing grease: stress pounds the blood so the
pores pour: palms slick: where’s the blood in
all this death, I don’t understand (we none of
us understand, not in hearts, only logic, that
smaller than pollen, a tiny living thing is now
freed, killing us bloodlessly) but we are made of
blood like cloudy sunsets, the red pulsing of our
invisible silence, the first tulips pulsing between
our forgotten footsteps, holed up in houses like
hearts inside ribs: here, I made you a person out
of a rib, said God: people need people, but now
the colours on
at dawn and dusk, clear days, the horizon
empties its colour: the light flies clean &
free of atmosphere, it seems: albedo and
albumen of day/night’s beginning & grow
Thanks to NaPoWriMo.net for the prompt to write a concrete poem, Robert Lee Digest for the prompt to write ekphrasis (about art), and The Writers' Greenhouse for the prompt to write about spring. This poem uses Mondrian's Composition with Red Blue and Yellow (1930).
See the new NaPoWriMo poems as they pop up, complete with pics of the handwritten drafts, and suggest titles for them, via whatever social media you call home:
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.