Skywriting

scraping the bottom     of a bunch of barrels

     I ask the sky     to paint me a poem

orange sherbet     cloud stripes     against blue 

     where there was no texture     or edge

bat floundering low     then gone     

                    “Broken wing?”

Venus visible so soon after     sun gone     

     diamond glint     on pastel pink     

“I wish the bat would come back” 

               (squeaking) 

“Did you hear that?” 

               (laughing) “Yes”

(trying again) “I wish the bat would come back”

               (silence)

“It’s not working” 
               
               (beat) 

                         “That’s a vulture”

          contrail headed straight     for diamond

     plane hits Venus     tears run down     

Septimus’s cheeks     for all this beauty     

     comes merely     from looking     

cables taut or saggy

     against gradient     west to east

     pink     orange     blue

“it’s changing so fast” 

     “I just saw your friend fly

                         over the rooftops”