Old color will surface, show through cream,
through new paint. Deep blue does that,
lines under brush strokes that don't quite
cover our traces, the days we spent
matching and choosing, holding cardboard
swatches of color next to the front door,
the window-trim, comparing combinations,
crossing the street to check appearances:
Solitude Blue and Moby Dick, Whisper White
we wanted to erase a pale, insipid green.
Neighbors say the new colors are elegant,
Mediterranean. I say our house stays blue
as the sea is blue, bold as New England coastline,
memory's high-masted sloop riding out the
in widening circles of foam into blue
that crests and breaks, does not go under.