Lee Posna

A Sky

Is there no way to see the
Scorched, scoreless, serious Syrian
Sky blue—across it

A carrier pigeon flies from Damascus
To Sidon (Toghtekin to al-Assad)—
‘Fatimids sending forces’—across

Cymbal-crash-bright, deep, clear azure, clean
As swiss of hot sword on whetstone ringing
Across crusade sky?



A Sky

Is there no way to see the
Kapiti sky’s five-mile-high stretcht-wool-
Arabic saad-saad-faa: ص ص ف

virga-born paraphs and
sublimed cirrus (horsehair
(ice)) clouds (send sun back out, seal in

infrared like fat poplar
crampt into roof and gable);

to see shifting north a mile or two below
swift shady zeppelins far

above a low long clumped cumulous bridge
from nowhere to nowhere
o’er offing (Key to Norman:

we’ll flag Kyoto.)?
Yes, see the imminent, Einsteinian sky:
observation changes nothing.



By Lee Posna

(New Jersey, USA / NZ) is an American poet living in New Zealand.