Creative Writing Marathon (classwork)

Red

I appear from 

bitten lips-

too hard-

and I swim beneath 

frosted fingertips

and noses left out too long

in the cold.

And

drawn faces

worn with fatigue

awaken to meet me in the morning

while the sun is preparing me 

for today's grand show

On

a stage that bundles

my heavy, wide-set eyes-

I am bigger than the ocean

of costumes and

loud ladies

and all the people who rush to gawk at my velvet face.

And

turn the corner 

where you'll find me

on a cold slab of blue.

I am not pretty 

I am practical

and shake hands

with the same

smile

months

ago.