PALETTE
He is of the landscape, it has been said of him.
But he is only suited to camouflage.
Nothing can grow in his green,
The yellow brown is not earth
but the eviscerated guts of birds.
Khaki, a reminder of his fearsome enemy.
He has blocked out the sun.
He has shrouded his loins in barbed wire.
He has painted himself into a shadow world.
His colors are red, purple and black.
But once he wore white and carried a silver rose.
(From: Out Of Love And Other Poems, by Kitty Madeson (1993) Stone Soup Poets, Boston.)
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