Red (A Ghazal)
A smear of lipstick glazes your favorite coffee cup — Passion Red.
I’ve not been a coffee drinker, until recently,
when I started wearing makeup again, after your last yahrzeit — and red.
Passion was one of your favorite colors, but you hated the stain it left on your face.
Things keep changing since you’ve gone. I don’t sleep anymore. I gobble up red
meat, every meal. I wear leather, velvet & lace — chains by the bed.
I speak out. I shout. Your girl has grown up. I remember you with fresh red
roses every Wednesday — Daddy would surprise you, after work.
When will I feel okay again? Will I find the answers to life, traveling? I miss the red
clay of Oklahoma, where you once told me you would never leave. Momma, what a liar you are!
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Carrie Magness Radna is an audiovisual cataloger at New York Public Library, a choral singer and a poet who loves traveling. Her poems have previously appeared in
The Oracular Tree,
Mediterranean Poetry,
Muddy River Poetry Review,
Poetry Super Highway,
Walt’s Corner,
Polarity eMagazine,
The Poetic Bond and
First Literary Review-East. Her latest poetry collection,
In the blue hour (Nirala Publications), was released in February 2021.
Hurricanes never apologize (Luchador Press) was published in December 2019. Her fifth volume of poetry,
Shooting myself in the dark (Cajun Mutt Press), will be published in early 2023. Born in Norman, Oklahoma, Carrie lives with her husband in Manhattan.