blue skies :: shira dentz

It’s a new sky today. I want to use this blue to make.
New, as we call the moon when it isn’t visible,
but here, black smoke instead of the moon.

I want to take the blue like it’s something.
Today the most beautiful blue ever.
The fullest range of shades I want to list them.
Blue alone a rainbow.

On the third day, gone the smoke to breathe from,
gone the black funnel to a hovering
like a swarm;
a net, perhaps, of a yellowing black that makes me think of
someone dead, so, perhaps, the flag of corpse.

Today no interference.
You can keep looking up the blue.

Only across town the still-fresh smell,
guttural blue.