The Night Was White
The day was white
the dog was white
the house was white
the child’s puffy down parka was white
the glue was white
the news was white
what ate from the snow was white
the fat was white and the lean was white
the thought was white
and the dream, too, ached with white
the music was white in the afternoon
the sweat was white
the cheese was white
the fear was white
the mostly forgotten story about losing a purse was white
the purse was white
the sea was white
the ice was white
the bark was white
and the ace in the hole was still white
the tit scratching in the dust under the bushes was an unillustrated white
the dew was white
the age was white
the hopelessness in the green bottle was that effervescent white
the tongue was white
the African was white and the Jew
the star was white
the dust was white
the crack in the wall with the bullet holes was white all the way to shadow
the cat was white
the cow was white
the bear was white
the slumped house was white, smoke curling damply from a window
the hat was white
the cigarette was white
the long in-breath was a colder white
the brick was white
the ant was white
the string that bound brown paper to the parcel was white
the map, even to its routes and cities, was white
the night was white again
again was white