All Kinds of Red

It's Valentine's Day
and we splashed red around
oh yes like butchers 
carving up the day
and we felt it in our hearts
watching loved ones
hurt to bleaching

and as you do
when grey deepens past twilight
we turned to food
in the crowded kitchen
scrambling eggs around
like free-range yellow clouds
but heavy and hot as guilt.

It's all okay now
with the planets reliably winking
stitched back into the sky
and the moon in pale bandage -
the sky's pendants
like dream catchers 
above turbulent pillows.

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