sky

sky

Alfred hasn't seen the sky
for twenty years
not since that day -- when was it?
Eighty-eight? Really?
And they say, but look, look out of the window!
He looks,
but that's not the sky
not really.
That's stars and nebulae, sometimes a comet --   
not sky.
Why not? they ask.
Sky... says Alfred
is grey and blue and salmon pink
and cumulo nimbus, alto stratus --
he chokes back a sob. Can't go on any more.
They give him a cup of tea
but it comes from a replicator.
It isn't tea
any more than the cosmos is sky.
Alfred is sorry,
but would they please slip something toxic
into his supper
tonight.
He misses...
misses the sky
so much.




Comments

[Catherine Edmunds]

Published in Dancing With Delsie (Leaf Books)