A, green, the tint of absinthe dripping through
A wad of lawn clippings – E,
Chartreuse, colour that only monks can see –
I, cloudy violet with sparkling points of blue
Or paler, the fresh paint sheen of a car –
When new, easy to buy – old, hard to sell.
O, orange, the sound of a tolling bell
Travelling over town and factory, very far –
U, under clear water, underwear –
Your flight spoiled by lots of crying babies
Though all of Europe is reflected in your eyes.
You think you hear, as you brush your hair,
The howling of a kennel full of hounds with rabies.
A rainbow as you land; then a career surprise.
-- John Tranter
First published in the Times Literary Supplement, 2013