Cinnabar

Chuckling at your double refraction of light, I

admire your rhombohedral habit. Your clothes.

Your scarlet red spanks. Like the inner mouth of the

Guillemot. If only you could be used as rouge.

Sulfide of mercury, with your succulent fumes, 

how you betray me! The Romans discerned your truth.

I want to daub you on walls. Walk my dog in peace.

Discover your charms. Rest in vermillion waves.

Stephen Paul Wren