When Color Goes Missing

The light of longest day

occurs in June,

when color goes missing

we call it night.

Dip our brush

in depths scooped out of us.

There's more room for wind.

Bible says we're clay,

we'll hold water 'til we break.

Drop the phone.

Let it echo in the canyon

eroding through us.

When my mom died

I started smoking Camels

on her grave.

When I heard about yours,

I quit.