Color Theory by Alexandra Teague (from Mortal Geography)

Color Theory

The Home Depot salesman says, "Remember, you won't have to live
with your choice:  You'll have to live inside it."  I imagine each gradation--unpacking

frying pans and toothbrush; paperbacks strewn
inside Plum Wine, Arctic Lilac, Chiasmic Violet.
     On the glossy card they've chained beside the racks

of color, I learn that purple promotes drowsiness and nausea:
not recommended for kitchen or the pilothouse
     of boats.  Yellow, while energizing, can make one irritable,

unable to blink naturally, too anxious to swallow.  Which shade
is it that makes one likely to remember turns
    from years-ago samba classes, make perfect hollandaise,

sing like Bernadette Peters? Which color will help me find
my mother's citrine ring (borrowed and lost
in seventh grade) or remember the name of the Australian

band that sand "A Girl", or find the hotel where Klimt awoke
in a light sweat after dreaming The Kiss?
    If I paint the living room First Green and the office

Eggshell and Mist, what primordial creatures will hatch
from the doorway clouds, what storm fronts
    sweep my bookcases empty?  Will my insurance refuse

payment for accidents resulting from color--the Supernova Blue
that caused me to fly kites from second-floor
    windows or the Miami Sunburst trimmed with Japonica

that enticed me to juggle butcher knives and pomegranates?
To make things simple, I'd like on color
     that will make me want to sing, cry, fuck, write letters

to strangers, wear fishnet stockings, buy irises, walk barefoot,
listen to Coltrane, move out, stay forever,
    have children, and understand winter.  One can, well stirred.