Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 20
Cloud Trouble
Here is summerís sailcloth blue stretched from hem to hem;
and there, a gauze apron, a sheer skirt

               below indigo.

How thinly stitched this perfect sky seems ‒
liable to tear itself loose and leave me
with the wet grey of winter wool
just when I thought all my cotton clouds
were pressed and folded into tidy cumulus stacks.

Something wants to rip this silk into rag-edged scraps,
let loose a hailstorm of fret and frayed bindings.
Unravel the rick-rack ridges of updraft, the thready strands.

Iíd just as soon put down my pressure-foot and reinforce
each flimsy seam. No more falling apart in the wash
of rain, in the fluff-and-tumble of wind.

Iíll have this blue calm ceiling sewed-up tight
before the next gale blows it apart &mdash
the funnel-cloud zippered down,
the blizzard needled, the cyclone
gathered into orderly ruffles.
A doubled knot, back-stitched,
a dress of clean-edged days.


Copyright 2014,  T. Clear

T. Clear is a founder of Floating Bridge Press, as well as Easy Speak Seattle, a weekly open mic venue. Her work has appeared in many magazines, including Cascadia Review, Poetry Northwest, The Moth, Seattle Review and Atlanta Review. She makes her living in the field of glass art.

Background Photo: Copyright 2014,  Michael Lee Johnson

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