in that rainbows do not always
shine from red to violet.

i. orange
beating down upon us, the sun is but a warmth
against skin, nuzzling flesh & bone.
it drips citrus down my body and now,

when i imagine it, it is in a fresh
summer glow: the way my grandparents’
photos would look if taken in color.

ii. indigo
i wipe fingers across denim, they are
slathered in the kind of sweet you stick
in your mouth, & i am told no:
for the ice cream, for the grass stains,
for the things we think unclean.

iii. violet
the gate outside my house
is made of flowers, the kind
that attract bees. a path
of lavender makes the type

of moat a princess has
while living in a castle, a moat
children are named after, candles
are scented by, and markers

are inked with. the fragrant beauty
mothers wish their daughters to be made of.

iv. green
a pot of blended meat, bok choy, and herbs,
for freshness. mama wraps fleshy hearts
in packaged dough, fingerprints sprinkled dust
on the dinner table.
later, i share this same joy with new
friends - box of chives & dumplings

inside, a girl pinches her nose and asks,
what is that smell?

i do not bring dumplings to school anymore.

v. blue
in chicago, in winter, the sky meets
snow with little else in-between. exhaled
frost becomes air, a bitten mint leaf
& lingering flavor on teeth. a kiln fires
spilled light into velvet sky.

vi. yellow
papa mixes honey & lemon
every morning so we may flush out
our toxins. in the light, it shines

more than king midas’s history—i know
because midas gave it away,
in the end. while stitching threads

into my skin, they say it is sickly
not to glow if you are golden, though
nobody will glow unless favored

by sun before dusk. so i bottle
liquid honey, slather it
like sunscreen, sticky sweet.

vii. red
in february, fireworks bloom against a lantern’s
blushing glow. musty elevators bring me
back to apartment 1401. my grandfather opens
the door, and i recite: gong xi fa cai, hong bao

na lai. the moon flips the calendar
to a new year. what i believed i still believe:
it is naturally possible to love like honey
in the sun - sticky, sweet, it does not stop flowing.