My New Coloring Book

I want to color the world with crayons
because I don’t think it was properly done.
The hues work for grown ups,
but not for this little girl.

I want the sun to be lemon, not fire,
and the clouds to be silver, not white or grey,
they look like cotton balls soaked in ashes from the fireplace
or the dirty water from mother’s bucket as she mops the floor.

Indeed, the sun should always be shining like a light bulb,
since that is the clearest light I know.
When I make a work of art, I don’t think about the reality
because if I wanted to make reality, I only require life.

Instead I want to take my crayons and mark the world
with purple and blue, and orange too,
but my favorite one is called indigo.
I use it on the sky, and the water, and my favorite Sunday dress

through my eyes all the world is summarized in these simple tests
does the color make me happy,
does the color make sense,
does the color want for interest,

does the color hurt my head,
can it claim the sole variety of every flower bed,
does it calm my eyes with lullabies that sift through evening towers
of sheet forts and coloring books

where everything is as I see,
as it should be,
as I want it to be,
Just as me in indigo dreams.