Muffin of Sunsets

The sky is melting. Me too.
Who hasn’t seen it this way?

Pink between the castlework
of buildings.

Pensive syrup
drizzled over clouds.

It is almost catastrophic how heavenly.

A million poets, at least,
have stood in this very spot,
groceries in hand, wondering:

"Can I witness the Rapture
and still make it home in time for dinner?"

Copyright © 2013 by Elaine Equi. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on May 24, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.