attaches itself to land like a grief
In a blue that is not forgotten,
Neither sky nor land may be forgiven.
One red-eye swims tearful at dawn, the other
Blinks as stars ask questions.
Today is good daylight. Rain
Will not cry all over the donkeys
As they walk like small grey sins, veterans of grief.
Nameless and ageless.
I do not feel sorry for them. Grey with guilt,
They nuzzle at bleak corners of nettles
In this sparse place of worship
They are forgotten. I fear
They may be suicidal.
The sky is no benediction,
They graze and wait for death.
(First published in New Republic)