
The Color Changer
brooding and dark it waits on the aged wood palette for the knife to cut through it
knowing it’s hue will weaken with the addition of insurgent colors
trying to change it
they flank on either side waiting for their opportunity
to blend
it roars back, mocking their attempts to force it into compliance
to be something
it’s not meant to be
it twists and turns with every swipe of the knife
they must never succeed
It will not relinquish its soul
The color changer gives up
And sets the palette knife down in the weary puddle of Prussian Blue
Linda McCoy



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