by Marissa Bell Toffoli.
On the other side,
the streets are cobblestone.
The walls of the town are blue and white.
Everywhere the eye finds royal, electric, cobalt,
aqua, periwinkle, turquoise, sapphire, midnight,
baby, ice, and sky.
Which way is up?
There’s a weight to the air.
Like walking through a Picasso.
Outside, someone waits.
You’re not home.
Behind the door,
you are the soft curved shape surviving
amidst an army of sharp right angles.