The sky has a body—it blushes, coughs
with smoke, folds under atmospheric
pressure, warms pink, goes icy and silent,
runs a fever, crowds with unwanted visitors,
expels birds like a throat swallows stones,
like a stomach stills a swarm of butterflies.
The sky wheezes with its wind, loses its
breath, belches thunder, heart beats shocks
of electricity and weeps from every pore
when it’s hurting.