a wispy grey engulfs the puddle
that has already taken in, half her toes into black
the crevices on her palm appear wrinkled and more important
than the story they have been unfolding so far
her face has no story
her eyes have no tale


she has covered the purple side of the rainbow, but
she hopes to reach the red
feel the warmth of the colour on her skin as it heats every pore, every hair, every mole with its tint
she hunts for some sunlight
to bask her in gold that would become her


she follows his shadow.
she follows the rainbow
she seeks the end
she seeks the colours that once surrounded her in different blocks
of electricity
she wishes to jolt herself to oblivion


her toes are now soft and prunelike
her legs carry her places without any instruction
she moves from memory
from exactness
her thoughts are excercised, rehearsed, imagined.


this is how things will be
she understands
until that end of the gleaming, shiny,
rainbow