Colosseum by Billy Greene

The blinds still color

the closed-eye color

red. Night two in Water-

vale, MI, by the water

of a county highway:

I dream a higher way

above your interstate a-

crossing the states

to take off my coat &

to roadkill, coating

my shit you’ve tracked in

in grills & tire tracks.

The right track’s color

is the closed-eye color

of suffocation. Under pillars

of the Colosseum, pillars

spared for gladiators,

our zombies gladiator

for the medal

of my metal-

lic screaming,

streaming

the unbearable wake

of our love — awake

at the taste that colors

your closed-eye color

blue, bitter.

It’s better

to battle you up here

than fester down there.

& to the crowd

that crowds

to sheep-count

& jointly count on

the lucky stars

supernova’d to star-

dust: what colors

in the closed-eye color

do you choose to paint?

Unless your pain

leaks at the edges

of the bed, no edges

impress your galaxies.

No intergalactic

bodies

embody

your known universe’s lips.

I kiss with all my colors,

my closed-eye colors; —

Aurora & Borealis dueling

for stardom on my ceiling.