A Freshly Baked Scone
You tug at the tattered edge
of the sky, risking a collapse
of fabric that would drape
skyscrapers and church steeples
and smother innocent passersby.
I know the ragged clouds offend
and the seam where sad old mountains
meet the sunset needs restitching.
But you’re not the world leader
who can deploy a million trained
tailors and dressmakers to fix
what eight thousand years of faith
have failed to uphold. Leave it,
and sit and enjoy your tea.
I brewed it the way you like it,
added milk to color it
the tawny shade you associate
with the lapping of the harbor
after dark. Your obsession
with cosmic imperfections can’t
end well, the scale too inhuman.
The war in Ukraine continues,
the sub-Saharan genocide
hasn’t yet exhausted its evil.
Dragging the sky down over us
won’t snuff the gray philosophies,
won’t solve the greed of majesties.
How about a freshly baked scone?
It’s not quite Scottish quality,
but it’s complete in itself
and will wash down easily
with hardly a catch in your throat.
William Doreski lives in New Hampshire, USA. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Mist in Their Eyes, 2021 and his essays, poetry, fiction and reviews have appeared in various journals.