by David Brake
of dead leaves & whitepink—ripening strawberries.
Red and tan and pistachio-green brownstones lit from lackluster sky lit from sun (post sunset).
Smooth-marble girl in Roman rose-garden sits and re: birds on branches
I want to tell her
that colors go away at night.
I want to say.
What you see as beautiful will be different
Originally from Denver, Colorado, David Brake is an undergraduate at New York University. He writes both fiction and poetry.