"You Ask Me Why I Wear Bright Colors"
Pain is vivid--
the vibrant teal and fuchsia of veins.
The crimson gush of persimmon
down the chin or forearm, the golden puss
as a scab bubbles the skin inside out,
the snap of bone that scintillates
in kaleidoscopic fractals behind the eyes,
throbbing bruises of tangerine and periwinkle
as skull-bone or knee-joint knocks
into shelf edge or desk leg.
The plum kiss left behind on elbow
When the vibrant colors dissolve,
the faded blues of ice packs,
taupe heating pad covers,
dull crimping aches that cloud mind, fog motion.
The skin is a pin cushion for metallic gray
needles delivering clear cortisone elixirs.
Amber prescription bottles, the muted pills:
pillows of white, pale blue, butter yellow—
the oblong, the round, the capsule.
Now, place your head to my chest
and listen: the sound inside
is the peacock's cry—strangled.
Jennifer Bradpiece was born and raised in the multifaceted muse, Los Angeles, where she still resides. She remains active in the Los Angeles writing and art scene. Jennifer has interned at Beyond Baroque, and often collaborates with multi-media artists on projects.
Her poetry has been published in various anthologies, journals, and online zines, including Redactions, Mush Mum, and The Common Ground Review. She has poetry forthcoming in The Ekphrastic Review, Stimulus Respond, and The Bacopa Literary Review, among others. In 2016, Jennifer's manuscript, Lullabies for End Times, was acknowledged as one of the final ten favorites in the Paper Nautilus Debut Series Chapbook Contest.