Poem: (scarlet) by Anathea Carrick

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really look.
that woman in red
– she is just an idea –
oh my god
what a notion. that kind that
wakes you up in a sweat
in the black of the morning
it’s a thought like an addiction
the seeds
were sown when
she picked it from her closet
when she rolled the silk
up each leg.
She’s an artist.
A painter. She’s created
a memory, you can be sure
A woman in a red dress is
a genius
in a demure sea of pink.
a genius wrapped in an
a study in brilliance
sipping a double scotch
on the rocks,
her cigarette.