Haze and Gray

James Shea

 

Nothing moved in the sky for months.
The same blank cloud remained
over the capital for the length
of a work visa. I didn’t expect
to see the sun again or the moon,
comets or falling stars. A bird turned out
to be just something in my eye.
I longed for a cycle of thunder,
one more shriek of lightning.
I sought something to nudge
the cloud: fireworks, kites, smoke
from torn bits of a family album
burned at a picnic. Nothing can’t be nudged.
I fired my pistol into the air.
It bucked my hand like a reprimand.
I became subtle. So subtle, I might
be dead. The cloud may be gone now.
I’ve stopped looking at the sky.

 
 

James Shea is the author of two books of poetry, “The Lost Novel” and “Star in the Eye.” A former Fulbright Scholar in Hong Kong, he teaches in the Department of Humanities and Creative Writing at Hong Kong Baptist University.