by Mary K O'Melveny
Ice is red here. Blood red.
Lava red. Forest fire red.
Cold sears like flame. Or so
one might think from afar.
They say it all began
in this distant cluster
of frozen rocks. Our sun
lies four billion miles out.
We could be wrong about
everything. Gravity’s pull
is different in new orbits.
Patience is required.
Warped by turmoil, we turn
outward, searching sky signs
for cosmic engagements,
for hints of original sins.
Mary K O'Melveny is a recently retired labor rights attorney who lives in Washington DC and Woodstock NY. Her work has appeared in various print and on-line journals. Her first poetry chapbook A Woman of a Certain Age is available from Finishing Line Press.
