The September Sonnets: IV

when we break dimensions, the rooftops will meld
into the sky; they will break off shingle by shingle
and the clouds will open up like tectonic plates
below our feet. the earth will melt itself down

to its core until the molten breezes from above
cool in the autumn wind; until the leaves will stay
red and burnt, roasting in the hot iron sun
that once crisped our own skin like these brittle

bricks. our consciousness skips uncertainty
as the sunlight swirls above our heads
to form a plastic rainbow in the eyes of departed
children from the surface where around us

the deadly moans of the heavens cracking
keeps our hands still; our eyes forever aching.

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