making sense of sunrise

 

we watch it plop 
up again and again 
all saffron spin
all lozenged hope 
all miracle-raised 
invisible string prop. 

it slow simmer singes 
a waking sky while 
you and i try to make 
something of its hazy 
smoke. 

is it the dot on a question 
mark caught by curious 
sky? 

is it a scar
-let apostrophe
simply stumbling by? 

are there more 
below the horizon, 
all ellipsis’d in a stack, 

and if we blow it 
all dandelion-like, 
will it come drifting back? 

it’s all a blur, a skystone 
slur we can’t wedge into 
words. and so we stop 
asking and just sit here 
basking, 
knowing it will
catch fire again tomorrow. 

::
In April, we poem.

This entry was posted in April PAD 2022 and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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