The Memory of Color

“When we consider further the associations and reactions which are experienced in connection with the color and the name, probably everyone will diverge again in many different directions.” Josef Albers

I was born in a room that overlooked a garden
of lavender and currants but the colours have
ebbed. So I read the fine lines that span your hands
like a map of Antigua. Yet lost, I am still lost
even when you walk me through a field or a day
and say ‘here is something new’
it doesn’t quite reach that deep sense
that strung me out across the lawn, pushed
me into earthy recesses of light and shade.
You can press flowers but you cannot keep
a summer morning when we rose at dawn to
race the droning insects to the trees, looking
for a way back, and for diamonds in the coal.