The sky

peels off the sun
and melts away

in furious gusts
of blue and golden

dust,
prancing en pointe,

insolently,
in between

worn rooftop tiles.
Up in the skies,

my skin gets
entangled

and my eyes
mangled

in the hole
torn

out from around

the sun,
and

in the morning

silk I lay down.
I am now a firefly

gliding to work
as the sky

peels off the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

______________

Photo: Elza Pearl HATTON