Color

by Lorrie Jayne

Not ten minutes after we hear the shot (Copper)
lingering in our throats,
the Dona’s blonde blue-eyed boy clomps in, birds
slung over his shoulder.

Pleased with her son’s triumph, she
raises the wounded birds to the light (Golden)
then splatters them (Aluminum)
screeches
against the wall.

(Green     Azure    Indigo)
feathers splayed (White)
breast down
bled (Red).

“MMMM,” she murmurs with relish. Her favorite.
“How lucky you are he hunts today.”
Teca and I bow our heads over parrot stew.
The Dona grabs Teca’s forearm, pinches
her hard (Onyx) skin.
“Eu aaaaaaaamo iste cor,” she cooes.

I love this (Color).

Lorrie Jayne lives and works at Warren Wilson College in Swannanoa. She is currently writing a Creative Doctoral Dissertation in which she hopes to capture the junctures at which enduring images of the Amazon region encounter fleeting moments from the present.

About Color—“Color” describes a true incident that occurred during my travels in the delta region of the Brazilian Amazon.

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