Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

POEM: Synesthesia

Posted on January 15, 2021 by B Gourley

cool patterns radiate off the back wall
sunshine screams through the transom

i cringe at the taste of red #4,
but don’t know whether it’s red’s stench
or the bitterness of the number four

across Asia, “4” is an unlucky number —
the number of death —
but for some it tastes like citrus peel

5 thoughts on “POEM: Synesthesia”

henhouselady on January 15, 2021 at 8:03 pm said:

Great poem. I love how you mingled the number four with tasting death.

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- B Gourley on January 15, 2021 at 8:43 pm said:
  
  Thanks
  
  LikeLiked by 1 person
  
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pvcann on January 16, 2021 at 7:58 pm said:

Wonderfully created

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- B Gourley on January 16, 2021 at 7:59 pm said:
  
  Thanks
  
  LikeLiked by 1 person
  
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  - pvcann on January 17, 2021 at 6:05 am said:
    
    Welcome
    
    LikeLike

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