ECCHYMOSIS

The sky is aching
Swelling like a fresh bruise,

The clouds like damaged tissues

Are breaking

Scattering,

Into tiny fragments

There is blood clotting,

Seeping through muscular layers

Blotting out the horizon,

And everything from the earths

Surface,

It won't survive the night

Birds will gawp mid flight
In this abyss

We will be still

Say a prayer

We did this.