A poem by Nicholas Laughlin
Published in
The Strange Years of My
Life
Salvaterra
I saw it myself,
the sun that dropped
in a lake of blue milk.
A blue god, bird-mantled,
sweating honey.
Golden captain, Christmas astronaut,
dropping like a pearl,
and the highest air, hot glass,
sticky horizon. I saw it myself,
I have blue milk on my hands,
doubting Matthew, doubting Jude.