Fragile white sky
electric wire scars a
black crow scratching grit in frozen
gravel a black guitar case a
nickel chrome guitar inside it my
lungs white fragile scarred &
shattering in ice the sky will shatter
someday but perhaps not this morning it’s
19 degrees in Rawlins Wyoming
the massive frozen creak of Union Pacific
cars inching along the siding un-
certain atavistic yellow a
black backpack a black baseball cap a
pair of clip on sunglasses the
slivers of grass white &
broken across the embankment below the
siding the sky doesn’t
shatter I’m short of breath the
car’s loaded I’m going back some-
place I’ve never been the petrified
freight cars & locomotives hulk
waiting but the white sky won’t
shatter we will
say goodbye
say goodbye
say goodbye
Jack Hayes
© 2010
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