Cylinder

I want you to turn me to the color of is

I want you to slice the apples 

Falling from my mouth 

I want you to lighten the burden 

To change the burden’s color—we are both inept 

But we can whiten 

I want you to turn to me the color of ribs 

I don’t know what any of this is but I recognize the color 

Which floats  

Towards the knife’s wrists 

Until I quieten 

I want you to chill me to the time of yes  

To halt the color’s degradation 

I want you to tell me 

You want to turn me to the color of a cylinder

Written by Indigo Gabriel.

Photo by Vino Li.