Erica Minton

SENSE

Her daily rainbow’s only slightly wider—
she slowly blinks and tastes her extra color.
Tomorrow she will have these buds removed
and things will shift back into normal spectrum.
So how to celebrate her final morning
of seeing, tasting one more shade than possible;
how best to send off bogus bonus senses?
She lets it take her over, like it used to
when she was six and took these shades for granted,
assumed that every eye could see the palette
of colors on the fringe of black. She’s wiser,
or she feels wiser—at the least, she’s older—
and in what felt like wisdom at the moment
she’d nodded.  Fix my warp and my illogic.
Remove what’s extra. I can live without it.