I See a Gray Door & I Want it Painted Grey by Amelie Florence-Neese
(to Vladimir Nabokov)
Please don’t spell it gray.
A is a vulgar red
adulteress, bleeding
in the pool. She billows
uncouth clouds of red in wet
plumes of smoke swelling
red tendrils that bloom in the bleached salt-
smell of chlorine, spreading between the hot pink
legs of y, so they red all over everything like sunset.
She drips
dry, dribbling red
on the deck, the towel, a all over
the gray carpet, red toe-prints
to the closet. She slinks
into red, hails
a taxi to some downtown
lounge, swills to get red all over
some mysterious, grey
gentleman. He gets right-
heavy with red
lipstick kissed along his white
wine glass. A leads him
out back to r alley, takes him
in her mouth, teeth stained blood-
red, slathering rosy red streaks
up and down the purple r, stiff
in the midnight street-
light curl, grinding
abrasions on his back and indigo-
g pumps his bruise-
blue e, spits
those cool, grey letters into her deep,
red throat, leaving
just the clean white-
black shadow grey.
Amelie Florence-Neese lives in Los Angeles and is earning her degree in Creative Writing and Comparative Literature at California State University Long Beach.
(to Vladimir Nabokov)
Please don’t spell it gray.
A is a vulgar red
adulteress, bleeding
in the pool. She billows
uncouth clouds of red in wet
plumes of smoke swelling
red tendrils that bloom in the bleached salt-
smell of chlorine, spreading between the hot pink
legs of y, so they red all over everything like sunset.
She drips
dry, dribbling red
on the deck, the towel, a all over
the gray carpet, red toe-prints
to the closet. She slinks
into red, hails
a taxi to some downtown
lounge, swills to get red all over
some mysterious, grey
gentleman. He gets right-
heavy with red
lipstick kissed along his white
wine glass. A leads him
out back to r alley, takes him
in her mouth, teeth stained blood-
red, slathering rosy red streaks
up and down the purple r, stiff
in the midnight street-
light curl, grinding
abrasions on his back and indigo-
g pumps his bruise-
blue e, spits
those cool, grey letters into her deep,
red throat, leaving
just the clean white-
black shadow grey.
Amelie Florence-Neese lives in Los Angeles and is earning her degree in Creative Writing and Comparative Literature at California State University Long Beach.
