Relentless Sunrise: Golden Shovel Lisa St. John
after “Cell” by Margaret Atwood Relentless sunrises, now like fading bruises, look snidely, not objectively. Their substance died with you. Sullied hues, that’s all they have now. There is no color without light. To offer me more would admit that marigold moments are the chemotherapy chewing the cancer but, it’s really up to each cell to fend for its survival. Is there a cure for blindness toward the beautiful?