Yes? No? Indifferent?
SUMMER SKY
It’s taller at night, and taller yet
on a gravel road in the woods.
So high I will never touch
or see or smell or hear
the top of it.
In this bottomed-out rut,
a stumbling pothole of red clay
and the possibility
of still-warm snakes,
so far above me,
stars.
SUMMER SKY
It’s taller at night, and taller yet
on a gravel road in the woods.
So high I will never touch
or see or smell or hear
the top of it.
In this bottomed-out rut,
a stumbling pothole of red clay
and the possibility
of still-warm snakes,
so far above me,
stars.