Jim Henle: In a time of foreclosure

through a fissure in workspace
a dark rake of clouds across the sky

a nation is a vibrant collage of steel
and glass encampments like upended

Olympic pools glorious so friction-free so
many cars below like a swarm of small

frogs out the inevitable glass both window
and wall the eye sways and falls where

the body cannot and the two-tone clouds spread
their arms preaching to the blue

congregation a sermon of somber grace and
rage unheard by the man with his fingers

perched in worry on his forehead like a wary

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