White

The vivid tulips eat my oxygen –Sylvia Plath

They are too much, too much of barbaric
ecology for me. Smiling, mocking me like
normalcy, grinning with good morning
in a hallway.

Shut up glimmering red.
Shut up glowing smiles.
You disgust me.

All of the bright colors are consuming
my existence like God formerly known
as Death.

Ted Hughes, white is better for me, not red.
White like my canvas sitting naked in
the kitchen imploring splashes of ignorance,
begging for color.

But like the walls of life, I prefer them white
with my black sins pouring like melted crayons
from my breasts, two cleanse worthy portraits,
red clumping on the sides like road kill.