Gabriella Garofalo writes

Enigma, the electric blue sizzling 
If words try to stone you dead  
And shrilling voices throw back to you the sky:  
See if she cares you look sharp  
Now that she’s the moon -  
You never go wrong with blue, anyway:  
A wailing toddler on the verge of choking  
While parents sing him a lullaby,  
Jobless young men, gazes lost in space,  
Jealous fathers fear for girls having fun:  
Beaches, white sand, clear blue water -  
Sometimes they happen to forget  
They conjured when young the mercy of wolves -  
And who are you, how dare you say  
“Forbidden fruit, don’t touch” -  
Witches, mothers, cities?  
Other stares must hit down your rattling nights,  
Stop this fuss, cut it out,  
For other souls, not yours, the sky will root -  
Wait, he’s just sneaking the blue in,  
That fake cheap kindness  
When you ask for help and look so needy -  
Yes, tell him he’s holy and perfect,  
C’mon, tell him you’re going for death -  
If death isn’t in make do with coffee -  
Of course with due blessing of mothers and their ilk.

[from A Blue Soul, Argotist Ebooks]