RED CIRCLE

I am what I am. And I am pointless.

I have infinite tangents. But only a single pigment.

A property that produces different sensations on the eye

I absorb most electromagnetic radiation,

But I reflect that with the wavelength near 650nm

Scarlet, vermilion, crimson, ruby, cherry, cerise, cardinal, carmine, wine, blood.

And what else can I do.  I don’t do anything else.

I am 2pi.  Three hundred and sixty degrees,

In the foreground of a white background, I’m the symbol of the Japanese.

But is that all?  I am what I am.

Allegory is in the eye of the beholder.

A target? The bull’s eye? The highest priority?

I do not mean anything of myself.

Who places meaning on me?

I am, what I am.  I am pointless, and red.

But you know what?  That is fine with me.

Imagine, for a moment, if this poem had been about Red Square...