How many months was it?
Say three
when red ichor flowed
through your veins like a fishnet in a river.
You smiled when others smiled.
A Spanish senorita in her flamboyant gown
whirling through the arena
Now, your wrinkled cheek like my grandmother's
rests on its side
In funeral attire you crumble in the dust
at my touch.
You died when others died.
Your were red
when I was white and cold.