That's not dust in the sky


From the city, you can only peak at the sky,
only taking a glimpse through cracked blinds, slivers of sunlight seeping in.
A disembodied voice, filing complaints, noting all the cracks in the picture,
until all you can see is the cracks,
a spider web, glimmering in the sunlight when you focus on in, engulfing.

“We didn’t start the fire”, we try to convince you. 
Projected whispers of engulfing, fluttering flames fill the air
so thick you can barely breathe.
And when the sun rises, it is a bright orange, contrasting the missing green

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