Irene was on time, with
a reasonable price for a roofer
of meticulous works.
But while the house had no hat
Jane’s head could not recover.
She stared at a jarring
blue hole, a shingle stolen,
tar paper too in hurricane tears
Clouded in blue trauma
she doubted the sky
would not collapse
as life had done before
like a hammer.
The roofer came too late for taps
the core of critical time elapsed.
For an hour alone, she glimpsed
the sky patch of daylight that
far away he must have seen, a battle
scene viewed skyward
on his back looking at
a gap a missile made
Did he think of her first, or
did he see heaven in smoky blue?
There’s a hole in the sky, and
the roofer came too late.
There is no treaty yet written
that’ll let them recover the body
The roofer came too late to
re-cover the roof.
