The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Joseph Saling

The Eye in the Sky


I didn't expect the moon

in that sliver of open sky,

but there it was

like a scooped out slice of melon.


Two weeks before in that very spot

I'd seen an eye staring down at me

as I did eighty just getting home.

An eye. Or was it God?


At the house I looked again,

but only empty night stared back.

Two men sat across the street

and I asked them, had they seen it,


had they seen the fiery monster

that mimicked human parts.

But they only stared then said

You mean the blimp?


Not a demon. Not God.

A blimp above a football stadium.


But tonight the moon

was an end-of-summer cantaloupe.

And it was very sweet and very ripe

and not what I'd expected.

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