By Jonathan Chan
WHAT COLOUR IS THE SUN? what colour is the sun? a barren eye can make no claim, perhaps a vicarious orange or yellow, so flamed at the perch of a day’s beginning or end. then it is a pink, sandwiched between blue evening and inky dusk. we know the sun only by its making a colour more a colour: leaves gleaming a greater green, primroses a weaker shade of pale, spots of cadmium in the bushes, and the glistening of receding snow. rays of light shoot out as a twinkle. tracing back the beams to a searing hot white, one sees of the sun the grace of its radiance, known only by what it reveals. TYING A TIE he tightens the tie, taut around the neck, ready for the day’s trickle, damp patches at the collar, folds of fabric, tie chosen to match shirt, belt, glasses, shoes, some juvenile compulsion, making sure its tip falls right over the buckle. he thumbs through his father’s drawer of ties, so many thin and silky, comically gaudy, strips of yellow and baby blue, good for some pop during another sullen meeting. tying a tie for a dream of decorum: what was victorian idyll, what was comfortably industrial, what was a tourniquet for a wound, what was a small, defiant knot for a mercenary. he wraps a full windsor around his neck, unready, unsteady for the humid, humid days.
Jonathan Chan is a writer and editor of poems and essays. He is the author of the poetry collection, going home (Landmark, 2022). His writing can be found at jonbcy.wordpress.com.
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