What the Sky Sees, What the Sky Says

by Glen Armstrong

From space there is nothing
of interest here,


only reflected light interrupted
by a satellite,


no yellow rose petals
defying the rain,


defying change and expectation,
vibrating, shaking.



I bunker down and listen
to the thunder


cloud’s pedantic rumble:
I am the sky – expect me to fall.

Glen Armstrong (he/him) holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters. His poems have appeared in Conduit, Poetry Northwest, and Another Chicago Magazine.