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.