Electric Shock at Sunset

A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Jackson David on Unsplash

Electric Shock at Sunset

I was sitting in his chair

Friday night, after dark —

special circumstances for sullen redheads.

You’ve faded,

the Stylist to the Stars said,

and I knew he was referring to more

than my tired locks, old with age.

I need to bring you back to life.

But what he was really saying was:

If you don’t trust yourself,

you will never be able to trust me

as he pulled shade after shade

out of his magic hat.

Eight o’clock, nine o’clock —

I, with nothing but time to give —

watching deft hands paint me

with deep copper delights

from a bygone dream of a sunrise

I’ve yet to see.

And I started thinking how it’s like love,

this infusion of rich color —

prismatic as a jewel —

how every bit of it

hinges upon trust of oneself

if we ever hope to see it shine

and the compassionate maintenance

to make it last.

© Julia R. DeStefano