If she could, she would choose
to be the color of Yellow cosmos, French lavender,
Texas paintbrush (or a Shasta daisy at the very
least): Anything but the color of pots
& kettles! Which she is. Which is when
a chaperone (who happens to be her
Mother) rebuts: But Kenya, you are also the color
of night, whose splendor cannot even be contained
by Earth. Nor by expanding galaxies, wandering
exquisitely as the thoughts of God. The color of Infinity,
if it had one; of Eternity, if it ever paused
to be measured. Daughter, you are the blank canvas
of dreams, where Earth's first undulating volcanic
beaches bloomed in hues so heavy, no lesser flower
could bear it.
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