Ode to Red

Ode to Red

Ah, the redness of red: scarlet overtones and undertones outlining its boldness. Red is so intriguing, so sanguine, so Bordeaux or wine of Judas. 

It's the telltale ring of a glass after dinner on the tablecloth or the ring around the mouth from strawberries.

Even the fakeness of phosphorescent gummy bears pertains to red, or the brick tone of my words.

It could also be the slap left smarting on skin–or should the mark be pink? It is definitely the blood blushing of a scar after a drinking indulgence...maybe even the puffiness of the face after too much sun or heat.

So, too, it's the smell and glow of heat. Why not the burners of the stove signaling readiness?

Red is my dress for swing night, the one that makes me feel like a femme fatale.

Red are my cheeks after a lewd comment, or sometimes a compliment.

Red are the leaves of the maple in autumn, or the carmine yarn of  my hat in winter.

Red is the color that helps me remember, that paints my memories with emotion, that shades them with meaning.

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi

Photo: "“Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid.” ~Jules Feiffer" by katerha is licensed under CC BY 2.0.