Today is Sunday, Day 215 in Bahrain’s Coronavirus time, and Prompt #111 in The Isolation Journals by Suleika Jaouad. This week’s prompt was written by NYC teacher, Cara Zimmer. She challenged us to write a color poem using synesthesia, a literary device that is a deliberate confusion of the senses.

Teal is the satisfying ocean smell of cyan serendipities.
It feels like the refreshing eye of the Persian Gulf peacock
And tastes like the blue morpho dipping into a waterfall.
Teal is the sound of a mermaid’s balayage of rainbows painting a masterpiece.
Teal feels like a surfeit of raspberries.
It smells like an opulent sweven of fairies.
Teal tastes like the susurrous symphony of the trees.
It is the savory sight of the unassuming prism of perfumes.
Teal smells like an imbroglio between two youthful unicorns.
Teal tastes like the bread of heaven.
Teal is an epiphany of the syzygy of God
without a scintilla of hopelessness.
Teal is hope.