The sky makes me restless
I watched the sky all night
and determined:
It is a fisheye lens pointed at nothing.
It is a cliff over which people hurl themselves.
It is a prayer paper, spitefully burning away when touched by the morning sun.

The trees make rusty smears on the horizon
and distort the edges
ugly so I
can’t see where the corners are tucked under.

Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep.