The sky had been burning for some time, and our eyes hurt.
This new burning sky came down in pieces.
It fell on every continent and into each of the seven seas.
It was not a fable nor a rumor, it was actual pieces of our
lives on earth.
It could not be marketed, no demand for it could be mined.
The stock market quivered.
The meters of taxis began to spin.
People who usually rode, walked, and people who usually
walked, hid.
The newspaper ran a three-line six-column headline.
Sputnik had gone up and come down long ago.
Hundreds of satellites since had burned through the
atmosphere.
This day the morning dew ascended forever.
The sky cried dry tears which turned into grit-laden globes.
A million little earths came crashing to Earth.
This happened on the island of Manhattan and also England.
It took place over Asia in a time not so long ago.
It happened in the age of catapults.
It thickened in the age of artillery and spread in the age of
bombers.
It came from right and left, from above and below.
The universal principle, it took place time and again.
Above the sky falling, there was always another sky.
People gathered in the streets to salute the new sky.
Children climbed on their parents’ shoulders to touch it.
But the new sky was still out of reach, though it seemed
lower.
A Sky
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