why the sky is blue

Happy National Poetry Month, we have finally reach my last poem for the month!  This is an odd little poem I wrote around ten years ago and re-wrote several years later. I definitely did not save the best for last. I have never considered myself to be much of a poet, but it is an art form that I enjoy, and that brings me great comfort in times of sorrow.

 

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why the sky is blue:

a layer of vapors stretch

over us like skin

—we curve— it pulls taut—

sagging on the mountain tops,

leaning weight in white bags.

scattered light refracts a change,

like the cheap peeling paint

in your room where we lie together,

an old favorite                   flaking off

the wall

and

to

the

ground.

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