The Apocalypse Sky

Desperate Times Poetry [Continuing] Poetry Series:

The sky looks forbidding tonight
Looking at it’s beauty, I am restricted to my body – no longer can my mind break free of the corporeal nonsense on the ground and soar
I’m stuck in the crimson hue of late summer sky and it reminds me of death.
It reminds me that wistfulness isn’t going to save me from the sickle that lives by my throat.
The sky is red and blue and it’s hard to see fly-balls.
If the apocalypse came tonight, the sky would look appropriate.

8.19.10