By Alec Prevett
there were no clouds in the day
all across was a sugary electroshock blue
stretched and squashed by a universal pull.
the trees behind the fence
mocked me with their absurd height, extending
their limbs and tasting
that sticky sky—
munching on it as giraffes do
the naked fruitboys nestled in the boughs
fed on it, too, reaching
from the branches to steal blue in their hands.
they hung there, far above me, laughing
as i drooled, hungry.