Precipice

There is nothing between the clouds
that stops the sun
from breaking them apart,

But they are propelled;
compelled together
as the weathervane’s warning
spins frantically
to call them back.

Spilling from beyond the reach
of water condensed
thicker than tears,
rays stretch long
over and under
the blanketed sky.

As the grass of the Earth
shrivels in agony,
waiting for the clouds
to fall apart,
the heat tenses bodies
to tighten
and break.

In raining agony
the drops that fall
from the cut in the sky
do not dry as they become
anchored,
but are gathered again
drawn back to rejoin
and return to the place
where they’ll fall apart.

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