TODAY THE SKY BLED RED

by Kyle Hina

Today the morning sky bled

red with memories that I can

only imagine from a far, all

caught up in the air beneath

the hazy sun. Wisps of a thing 

infinitesimally small in size but

of infinite magnitude, summoned to

one last sail across heaven’s sea.

Somewhere in there, I’m sure,

is the country blue farmhouse 

that grandpa built, with the tan

guitar in the corner that turned 

him into Johnny and grandma 

into June when he played it. 

There are the skinny emerald

pines that dotted the trail of

a friend’s first date.  And the 

silver and rust car that caught

her sobs when she found 

that love isn’t always evergreen.  

There is the ivory wedding gown, 

all bejeweled and moth-balled, 

that hung in the closet, still 

awaiting its turn to renew a

couple's love. And the matching 

aqua tie that the husband was 

too scared to wear, for fear it 

might find that brown tea stain 

to match all of the others.

A teal blanket that went home

with the baby and the yellow

cleats he wore when he kicked

his last goal. Violet flowers, 

magenta scrapbooks. A faded 

purple skateboard and greyscale

photo of the family reunion, 1989.

On and on, memories too 

numerous to count rise in a 

prism’s worth of colors, but 

carry too much despair to 

form a rainbow. Instead they 

coalesce into a crimson blanket 

that covers the city like a car 

too old to ever be used again. 

In another world, white men 

in black suits point fingers and

shout names, maneuvering for

attention like children at a funeral.  

But my eyes are on the horizon,

where tonight the sky bleeds red.  

Kyle Hina is a husband, father, software engineer, and musician living in Zanesville, Ohio with his wife, two sons and dog. He has one published short fiction work on 101words.org .

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