Photo by Claudio Schwartz
Synesthesia
Selyf Davis
I felt the song;
Fingers slow across corduroy troughs,
sliding smooth where knees wore thin.
I tasted the thought;
Bitter desert citron eaten green,
pithed and persistent from seed to sin.
I colored the words;
Brackish brown muddied palettes,
inchoate chaos color watery thin.
I saw the time;
Winter oak branches mossy bright,
adorned, adored where leaves had been.
And I heard my end;
Squealing taps opened full and hot,
pin prick knives striking frozen skin;
Drain gurgles flecks away, taps close,
slow receding drips in quieted din.
Selyf Davis
I felt the song;
Fingers slow across corduroy troughs,
sliding smooth where knees wore thin.
I tasted the thought;
Bitter desert citron eaten green,
pithed and persistent from seed to sin.
I colored the words;
Brackish brown muddied palettes,
inchoate chaos color watery thin.
I saw the time;
Winter oak branches mossy bright,
adorned, adored where leaves had been.
And I heard my end;
Squealing taps opened full and hot,
pin prick knives striking frozen skin;
Drain gurgles flecks away, taps close,
slow receding drips in quieted din.