Weather report

The weather changed

in the arteries of my eyesight

clouds were moving

across the tongue of my heart

there was a storm like fever

in the grasping tendons

of my wrists

systems of subtraction

centered on the liver of my life

while gusts of fear blew away

the laughter in my lungs

Thirty thousand

From the view

of thirty thousand

the tiny dots disappear

and they’re gone

did they ever live

what did it mean

when did the echo

of their voices

cease their endless crying