Synthetic Blue

The bottle was cheap, a dollar or less,

bought for the color, I have to confess.

It’s the blue of a dream, or a deep, liquid sky,

sitting there next to the crust of the pie.

The shadow it casts is a bruised, heavy stain,

across the breadcrumbs and the coffee grain.

A cobalt ghost on the laminate white,

glowing with a strange, chemical light.