It was a long day, blazoned with hints from cumulous,
Forebodings—blackness in my wrists,
A fancy concerning self-harm—
As if customary sky may purchase
Or sell a life, in this case mine.
I’ve questions and no one to ask,
This static American business,
Bleaching yourself clear in public,
Being silent, a green chill
For a tongue. I was powerless
Today, strung across
My thirst with no one
To tell—correction—
The sun as strong as always.
