Something stroked the inside of my leg

The moment I saw you.

The ground was rock and clay and tar

And my thighs quivered like light blue

Baby’s dress in the wind

Like Baby Janie’s in the saddle

When I rode with her before she died.

The color of grief isn’t hard to describe.

It’s a little gray a little blue a little

Purple like the sky at dusk

Sometimes red comes splotching out

Like the blood that falls out of me

Every month on a Sunday

But didn't soon after I wore

Something borrowed.

Sometimes desire is red too

But rarely is it blue

But it was when I saw you

It was when I saw you.