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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