In golden light yellow
hay made me sneeze,wheeze.
I don't see many women
nor even men nor trans
wearing red lipstick anymore.
The 1950s kissed
with thick crimson lipstick, kicked
like a mean horse full
of bad yellow hay gas.
When an alpine lake,
I say brothers and sisters,
if an alpine lake
turns truly blue,
you must pause in awe
your fishing or kayaking,
your known rowing.
As the fog began to thin,
the sun looked like a flat,
cool yellow disc.
Bombs, bullets, missiles,
rockets, shrapnel, make
bloody death, dead bloody
children, babies, their mothers,
fathers, lying in blood
because Power does not
want in its red fury, its
ruinous hatred, to share.
Hans Ostrom 2023
