Cloudcover

In this town of angles, lines
the clouds roll over
barrel chested but mute of thunder
staying to the margins
we'll never build into
their dissolute shadow dissolving light
reminding us we are spherical
our straight legs and strong
rely on arches
buckle over the brim
lean into the bend
lie like sickles in our sleep
the paths we drive
only seem level
but always bow
always carry us intentionally
back
around, arriving at the place
we set out to escape.
Find old bones
of our own limbs
torn from us
to make the getaway.
We find them precious again.
Though no memory
of the pain they bled from us then.