Michael Fisher holds an MFA in Poetry from New England College and is an MA candidate in English at Clark University. He is the author of the book Libretto for the Exhausted World available from Spuyten Duvil Press.
What Type of Red Are You?
but that’s not what happened, she said
her red hair on a white pillow
messy, like my hand writing:
it wasn’t raining, there weren’t
crows, night didn’t leave you
lost and abandoned—anyways
you always said you hated the sun
it happened slowly, God’s wraith
didn’t strike you
you don’t believe in God
you only kept those hymnals
from the church which burnt down
for fear of losing more
the past isn’t a story
filled with inconsistencies
that let you change the ending
it’s more like seedlings
which struggle to grow,
dropped on granite
most of them dry out,
never to know soil, or April
but some find a way
not everything can be saved
she sighed, even when we hold
each other to watch
the sunrise, there’s no way
to know it will
Visitant 
I love the juxtaposition of the title with the speaker’s voice which took me through the poem, one turn after another. My favorite stanza is the one about the past and inconsistencies. Kudos!
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