My Brother, the Sky
by José Genao
Why does the sky turn yellow after a storm?
The brash dark blue,
heavy rain hitting the trees.
Raindrops like shattered glass.
We fought again.
Can’t even remember what about.
I sat in my room,
you in yours.
You returned, but said nothing for a moment.
A silence, making it’s home in my doorway.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” you asked.
And we did.
Halfway through,
you leaned your head on my shoulder.
Like you always do.
Like a yellow sky,
almost like it’s trying to say,
“I’m sorry.”