The photographer showed me his sky
titled Cerulean with Virgas. Wispy
strands trailed below cirrus clouds,
ice crystals evaporating before falling,
suspended in blue.
He pointed to a virga
he saw as a ballerina,
legs stretching below a tutu,
head crowned with cloud flowers.
I saw only filmy ultrasound blurs.
I couldn’t stand the suspense.
I wanted to evaporate before I fell,
but kept dancing through the second act
in case of a change of weather.
An earlier version was first published in Melusine
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