by Alex Gibson

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Red as an axe-wound gouge to the heart
Red as the bloodshed too soon to depart
Red as the smouldering left on pale flesh
Red as the raw ire choking veiled breath
Red as the razor lain still by the tub
Red as the rosary drowning in blood
Red as the knuckles of wallpaper white
Red as the bathroom’s shattered pull-light
Red as the flash of a chamber’s last blow
Red as the ink on emergency room notes.

Red as the dawning bright clementine eye
Red as the shepherd’s delight in the sky
Red as the ruddy cheek’s virginal blush
Red as a valentine’s next gentle love
Red as capillaries flowing cell-thin
Red as that which we all hold within.

© Alex Gibson

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Alex Gibson (he/him) lives in the south of England and is a student of English with Creative Writing at the University of Portsmouth. He enjoys writing about the human condition, particularly in contrast to the greater world around it, from the gentle Romantic to the foreboding Gothic. He has previously been published by Skrews Syndication and Midsummer Magazine. 

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