She said the color of snow

is like baby’s breath.

The color of baby’s breath

is that of a Chinese funeral.

The color of funeral

like a cold spring

gushes, and the watery voice

of early spring comes down

in threads of rain from the space

between stars.

The color of Sirius is the same as

a cinder, sparked from grilled salmon

that swam the Pacific.

Behind the Pacific is Alaska,

the permafrost stoic

under the midnight sun.

The sun is colored like honey

for mint tea in Morocco, where waves

are dried into salt.