by James O’Bannon
The sky is burning again
I said the sky is opening
again the sky is a collection
of god-spit and pretty light
I said the sky is a mother
and granny died and the sky
looks beautiful today I said
the sky has opened the sky
is past tense the sky is a grandmother
the sky is granny dead now
everything I pull from my stomach
is the sky I said the sky has been red
has been blue has been gray has been
black today and is granny still dead?
the sky is alive I said what does
the sky look like today I said how
does granny look today I meant the sky
I mean how does the sky look like my granny
I mean there is a granny for every star
in the sky that loves them too much
to tell them she is leaving I said what
does the sky leave behind I said
where does the sky begin?
James O’Bannon is a writer from Cincinnati, Ohio, seeking to explore themes of Blackness, religion, and longevity through poetry. He received his BA in English from Northern Kentucky University in 2016, his MFA from Fresno State University in 2019 and is an alumnus of the Tin House Workshop. His writing has appeared in Waxwing, Triquarterly, Nomadic Press as part of the Nomadic Ground Series, and Flies, Cockroaches, and Poets, and The Northwest Review.