the color of your poetry is red
but i do not know how to explain it.
maybe red like the back of your playing cards,
a bit scarlet or crimson, a combination
maybe, just a touch of menstrual
but less violent; a more constant, masculine
red, quite close to the heart,
because i feel it beating like your poem
is part of it, like your poem needs to dwell
in my body but is much too different.
- an unfinished poem by Gian Lao