Sky and . . .

Written by: Jill Martin

From up here, far above

I’d hoped for a sense of her
running

fingers across stuttering eyelids of regret

     gasping ribbons of breath, stuck lips to teeth of
bald tires on suicide turns . . .
	short fingernails finding purchase
	    only
in Faith.

	Her heart keeping time, marking mine
hardly disturbing enmity between smooth pebbles and
the texture of his words on her exposed
sensibility
      as to the way of distant love . . . and
she sighs.  as a perfect fit tightens
with the brighter light of
		passing.time.

But from up here,
    her feet followed . . . in worn out flipflops
the way of his endearments
	ruffled skirt playing about pretty calves
as she
   sang out-of-tune of a blue and windy day
in chill mountain clarity

	But then
she looked up at me
wearing earrings from the sky . . . in colours
	to match her eyes . . .
as
she
     threw back her head
           
a.n.d.

             laughed