While you are out of town in Italyfor the wedding,
I am going to paint all the walls of the new house white.
I begin by standing in the western-facing front door
as the sun setsand envisioning everything awash in white. The house my ship, ship-shaped,in clean virginal light.Looking steeringeast, toward the Atlantic oceanI can see the backyard.
And there they are: the robins of late winter.I know I know by the color,
they followed me here, of course with the full sun behind me, wind in the corridor, and after all this time and in the wrong season
they followed me here.I close my eyes, they move. [End Page 11]
The air flows with yellow throughall the windows of the new house. Smells yellow, tastes yellow, lo the uniforming splendor of a paintbrush and a gallon of white.I paint a mosquito white. There are no more robins, just colored sunset light.
Every day is sunset. I wrap myself in a white comforter,I parade around the house the one my mother bought when my father left, then died.
You know,with my ankles all rainbow. I know you know.
I am painting everything white because I wantevery thing to be your bride. [End Page 12]
Lauren Clark is a noted Beyoncé enthusiast and MFA candidate in poetry at the University of Michigan. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in PANK, Ninth Letter, and Redivider, among other journals.