FREED VERSE

lots and lots

eyes of prussian blue
their capsule waxing glass
dare i bite?

--

I wrote this poem about — while I was studying for an art history final. I was reading Benjamin Labatut’s essay “Prussian Blue,” which outlines how scientific experimentation led to crushed beetles being used to make blue pigment and, eventually, cyanide. By just tinkering with the world around them, scientists were able to transform nature into both beauty and death: a rebirth wrapped in a memento mori.

His eyes aren’t exactly Prussian Blue. Even though they’re a shade or two off from the dye-turned-toxin, I still find myself trapped between the life and pain they bring. When I look at them for too long, I fall into them. It’s hard for me to tell whether I’m in a work of art or approaching heaven’s gates. Either way, blue remains my favorite color.

It’s said that cyanide tastes like almonds. I think it tastes like love.