Which tie? you ask, and I point
to the fade of blue-into-dusk.
Which skirt? I wonder, and you bless
the comfort of my old thrift shop floral.
Black shoes. Brown shoes. Your grandmother’s
Bible. All the words you will speak neatly written.
Outside the trees are putting on saffron.
Little brother slips into his new suit of light.
Robin Turner has recent work in Bracken Magazine, Ethel, River Mouth Review, and in the Dream Geographies project. A longtime community teaching artist in Dallas, she is now living in the Pineywoods of rural East Texas for a spell. She works with teen writers online.
One thought on “Saffron by Robin Turner”
oh such a poem–these choices the are the choices can make. And that last line, oh, it speaks so well to what is beyond our control