Mustard Yellow
by Deseray Meister

Long before we carried you home,
confined in car seat shelter,
you filled my mind with dire imaginings
rehearsed with the agony of clarity.

Last week’s movie date
bombarded my squirming eyes
with electrocution,
drowning,
mothers draped in black.

I raced to lift you
into my bruised embrace.

Today, your canary-colored jacket
went mustard yellow,
filtered through the green
of murky waters.

You were still in it.

My reflex mind jumped
into a studied action plan
while I reeled, disbelieving.

I raced to lift you
into my dry-clean-only embrace.

Your cries,
piercing sweet,
face flushed,
bright eyes reproachful,
dispelled dull movie skin
and the practiced blankness
of an actor’s stare.