This Shade of Red
Digs female vocalists of the 1970s.
Can spatchcock a chicken. Calls its niece’s dog
That Damned Thing. Is secretly leaving
everything to public television. Reminiscent.
Refulgent. Liked doing declensions back in the day.
Has a thigh-high stack of W magazines beside the toilet.
This Shade of Brown
Busts through crosswords. Excellent posture on its Vespa.
Soccer fan. Thinks it would have been happier as a botanist
but too late now. Gung-ho precision engineering. Simmer. Taekwondo.
Holds dear its youthful travel tales.
This Shade of Yellow
Normally even-steven but querulous under pressure.
Keeps the heat a degree below comfortable.
Thought it would be a lawyer when it grew up.
Penitent. Thinly. Formerly de rigueur. Never yearns in public.
This Shade of Orange
Double-jointed and ambidextrous. Drives a van.
All who wander, etc. Knows its Wordle
stats by heart. Diplomatic to a fault.
Homilies. Proverbs. Isms. Once cupped its hands
around a dying bird and sobbed, just sobbed.
This Shade of Teal
Listens to deep cuts of Spandau Ballet.
Troubadouring. Vast. Has a hoard
of discontinued lipsticks. Loves December best.
An enemy-less color. Super duper. For real.
Catie Bull lives in Tacoma, WA and earned appropriately literary degrees from Oberlin College and U.C. Davis back in the day. She has a Scottish Terrier and a lot of books.