Poets in Motion
Poets in Motion

White Sky

by Wendy Wachtel about a year ago in art


White Sky

A flicker of candle flame,

from the ledges of the porcelain,

milky white,

reflection-less window pane.

The drop of water on a nearby leaf

cuddles the flickering flame.

Dark night shatters

and tightens around a throat.

Prism, white and muddy black,

all hit the sky before it was too late...

a white, fluffy white

perfect cloud

passed it by.

White sky.

I dropped a black rock I was holding

in my fist.

I dropped it on the floor

of the dark and muddy

dirt and rain

which had fallen

the night before.

White sky.

Why did it pass?

There was no more sun,

no more light

and no more flame.

A cat in the distance

turned and opened her mouth.

She purred.

She said "hello" in her own kitty way.

I blinked.

The world went dark.

My eyes stayed closed.

Soft. Still.

Silent wind.

Nothing around.

Black rain again,

(I think.)

Or the moon paused

and it is time to sink.

Wendy Wachtel
Wendy Wachtel
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