Underneath

This dark gray sky is pressing
layers of air into a shallow
trough like seeing the sky
through a narrow, opened vein.
This form of silence commands, be
still, and the black stick trees,
brown grass and metal
colored water underneath listen.
while I want the why.

The air tastes acid and I
imagine sickening, falling
to the dark brown earth
and the slow caress of worms
or walking out of this darkness,
leaving familiar, knowing colors
change, daily, hourly  if I
could wait. If I could just
wait.