A
Poem in the
Before Choice Disturbs collection
Is there a domed
sky that stretches all around your
spinning?
Earth circle frame and
neon orange pink
horizon, nighttime
At odds with
insect swarms,
As the constellations form?
Sounds like icy fine heaven.
I know a boxed sky.
Buildings with rippled abdomens overpowering,
Strongarming sunlight in a violet
Redirect off their mirrored struts.
And think, "No sun today."
But, gracing just right
Among money's cathedrals
The sky takes on that bang blue hue,
Found in prospectus filtered photos.
Looking up past these offices of brokers.
There is this austere square horizon.
It's this glowering towered sky
That is the most insolate thing,
Next to a heartbeat.