If it was true, if it was true, I would be sitting at one window
All one morning, testing the strength of the color blue. Is
Blue strong enough to surround and defeat all the other
Colors? Can the pervasiveness of blue make all other
Dreams surrender? Can it heal anything left behind?
Can it take me to the country where every step matters
And is felt, instead of lost? That would be our country,
Mine and Blue’s, blue as soft and true as indifference and
Forgetting, as remembering and making a monument to
Remembering, which is the science of incorporation of
Blues, of flags, counting the sciences, and resources,
And abilities, and losses, and diminishings, the belief in
Elements, and their overlap, and the invisible unsayable
Still unfound—something not in the Forest House, something
Far beyond.

Rebecca Pyle

Rebecca Pyle is an American writer and visual artist who has been living in Europe, mostly in France, the past year and a half. Her poetry appears often in art/literary journals, including Indian Review, The Penn Review, The Honest Ulsterman, Belmont Story Review, Kestrel (forthcoming), and Anacapa Review. Her fiction has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize. Her artwork often appears too in art/literary journals.