upon learning mantis shrimp don't really see 12 new colors humans don't

i want to know who, if not the mantis shrimp,
is blinking the thoughts of ancient fruit.
skimming the wild ocean for a color on 
the other side of blue. once, when i was sick
& living in the shadows of twigs, i witnessed
a color that moved like fangs. cut my hair for me.
swept the carpet & then spoke the language
of alarm clocks. you're telling me you've never 
conversed with yellow? asked for her secret
double face? the mantis shrimp is no stranger 
to red. puts on her cloak before hunting.
our conversations have gone on for centuries.
a human will kneel & ask the mantis shrimp
if it was god who made all the colors.
she will shake her head but refuse 
to admit who. she knows the color maker personally
& will only tell the secret to her children
in the shadow of a passing boat.
once a rainbow spread across my bedroom
like an organ. i keep blue closest to my heart.
let it warble. all the birds in a single hue.
i am trying to find that old color again.
the one who visited me not like an angel
but like a ghoul. a color has dreams & nightmares.
a color remembers when it was used for blood
& used for a mouth & used to force flowers to inhale.
i used to be so blurred my blood came out indigo.
told no one how off i was. waited for 
the wheel to turn. the mantis shrimp watched.
snipped pieces of light to savor. to keep the library.
little bright shelves. impossible word un-worded.
what can i tell you? i saw color yet to be named. 
the mantis shrimp come like priestesses.
tell us not to worry. ask again. ask again. 

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