the roofers are here

[miriamjoyce]

slate that falls two stories
breaks like glass
chiseling men’s voices
rip holes in your scalp in the name of
water tightness
casting off good gray slate
made brittle by Ohio’s acid breath
indignant on an anonymous blue tarp
the scars of 105 Albany winters
mingle and swear
under the look-away mourning
one gives a limb that couldn’t be saved

close the shade
to avoid the sight of falling