It was in the papers:
the sky had weeped.
Its eye had opened
and it had seen its death
written in the shit of
small,
yellow,
insects,
their black feet taking them nowhere.

Iris and pupil stared:
they had seen a noxious cancer
mark its growth
with flowers of flame.
They had been silent witness
to the ceaseless infection,
the blind gazes turned
toward the red flowers
withering with the children.
How strange that they had watched
the blood of a generation
turn to paper.
So have we been scrutinized
as we happily practiced our alchemy,
turning our future to money.

What grasp ants must have
to force open the eyelids of the sky!
What power!
But now the eye is open,
and even if we climbed
the mountains of the dead,
held aloft
on the hands of wailing corpses,
this gaze will remain fixed on us.
What fools are ants to believe
that they can survive without the sky.

09/08/2005

Author's Note: Welcome to the world, children.

Posted on 09/08/2005
Copyright © 2026 Peter Hsu