Wish to Be Other Things

Words want to be the sky,
At least like the sky—bright
Or threatening but sure,

Thin but independent
As this stony planet’s
Embracing atmosphere,

Flimsy as the garments
Greek sculptors suggested
Could be cut from marble,

Sturdy as the blizzard
That blankets the landscape
With insulating cold,

Gone by spring. By spring, skies
Will threaten other things.