The Color of Helpless

My mother lies in a white hospital
eighteen hours and three gas stops away,
strange fingers manipulating her heart.
What is the color of helpless?

Construction orange maybe
Those fiery diamonds
Casting sparks at your toes,
dance cinder foot, dance.

Not December’s afternoon blue
Blue is the color of round edges,
cats in books, floating above,
going under.

My brother is the color of whiskey bottles,
warm Jim Beam brown.

I hit a deer tonight, in the black.
It jumped into my light,
hurled back into darkness,
jarred by the hip of my pick-up.