Betsy Nelson
The Color Of
I don't remember the question
from my six-year-old son
who inherited my pale skin,
fair hair, wedgewood eyes.
Perhaps it was about his best friend
with skin the color of roast coffee,
sepia eyes, hair the color of evening.
Perhaps it was about words he heard,
a gesture, growl, or glimpse of injustice.
I do remember my answer –
"Sometimes people judge others
by the color of their skin."
And I remember his response –
"They do?"
"Why?"
Bio
Born in Texas hill country, I emigrated to Boston, Massachusetts and
the wilderness of Lake Huron.
I write and illustrate poetry, have been published in PoetryandCovid
and Lascaux Review/Easy Street, with poetry honored at the SCBWI
conference. Several illustrated poetry chapbooks for children are in
progress.