The Fieldstone Review

The Skyline Circus

Gravediggers push earth into piles, next to piles, next to piles:
Overnight tombstones identify the dead.
They plough below sole-shaped paths,
Severed stumps and gutted roots.
These cranes are hungry, taming the wild wood.
Puppeteers, pull and release
Slabs and steel foundations.
The skyline circus,
Bringing players to a crowded scene,
Each toppled on the other’s shoulders.

A parking garage on the roof of hell
Where demonized drug hounds lurk for unsullied prey.
A penthouse in the basement of heaven,
With angelic agents snorting lines of cirrus cloud.
A bridge of elevators smoothes the transition.
The earth has been displaced
Forced to roam, barren.
The sky has been photographed,
Folded up and documented.
The sea has been bottled and bar-coded.
How they scurry about their custom kitchens,
Taking their T.V. nourishment,
Making microwave entertainment.
The night sky is the neighbouring condo
And the stars go out at eleven.