by Marianne Szlyk
copyright 2014
I dream of a green apple on a pink plate,
of the sun’s dapple that green resists.
It is winter.
The sun’s steady gaze proves
it is time
for other climates’
grapefruits, blood oranges,
time for this climate’s
penuche, ribbon candy.
I dream of a blue subway,
music outside of our earphones,
twilight outside–
we are on our way.
We live in the suburbs.
We walk to work.
I dream of pink salmon
leaping upstream.
Categories: poem by Marianne Szlyk
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