Poems by James B. Nicola
November 19th, 2013 by admin
Touch Red
Touch red
Ouch
Touching red is like knowing you
But can you touch red at all?
Is it the red of the red
Or the red of the thing
That makes touching red
Touching red?
The bright and the blare
And the brass and the boom
And the bomb are like
Knowing you.
Is it the feel of the red
Or the feel of the sting
That makes knowing you
Touching red?
I don’t know
So I burn
Touching you
Touching red.
If I had x-ray vision
If I had x-ray vision
I’d see
in the sea of souls
like whitecaps in the glitter of the sun
but glimmering through the surface
from the depths
hearts
hungry as a field
of blood-red
poppies.
But I don't
and so attend
this grand chorale
of mouths agape
red as rows of
poppies, and—
listen
James B. Nicola, winner of three poetry awards and a Pushcart and Rhysling nominee, has published almost 400 poems in Poetic Matrix, Atlanta Review, Tar River, Texas Review, &c. A Yale grad and stage director by profession, his book Playing the Audience won a Choice Award. First full-length collection: Manhattan Plaza scheduled for 2014.
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