A dark angel strove to conciliate
the morning dew’s short life
evaporating into the light
under a bright July sun.

Somewhere a dog barked.
Somewhere a cat snarled.
Somewhere a child cried.
Somewhere a woman screamed.

An angry ancient truck
ground wearily up the old south road 
to a place where the moon never shines,
where dark stars go to die.

The sky turned orange yesterday
when the blue lady left her cave
flying on gossamer wings
into the Mojave Desert.

Somewhere a phone chirped.
Somewhere a crowd cheered.
Somewhere a soldier died.
Somewhere people still laughed.