Weather Report

The clouds are retreating tonight
together in the same direction-
like bulging, sad parade floats
with degenerative maladies,
leaving patches and potholes
in the checkerboard firmament-

and the accumulating murkiness
somewhere near the horizon
is clapping its thunderous hands
to the fatuous music of war-

and still we sit, measuring the moon
between our slender fingers,
passing it to and from our open mouths.