P—W  V° 01:01


by Julie Macindoe

I wake and the sky sleeps.
Heavy clouds form stormy eyelids.
Blinking, the clouds shift.
A prickle of sun, like goosebumps.
A pinpoint of light against dark, fertile flesh.
Blinking again, the sky begins to weep.
Concrete and earthen cheeks dampen the sound.
Drops fall within and without.
Let me turn into bloodless stone.
I pull the sky towards me,
gulping it down in one cavernous breath.
It sits in the hollow, humming.

2021 © J.Macindoe