The sky torn and repatched with tools
constructed from sorrowful rain.
This sham artist has left
the world poorly explained.
An apocryphal painting,
varnished images wrecked,
set upon fragile easels,
chipped pigment now takes effect.
Creeping blemishes below clouds,
leaving the splattered canvas dark,
with neither hope nor signature,
man’s, not nature’s work.
About the contributor: Linda Imbler is a Kansas-based Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Nominee. Linda’s poetry and a listing of publications can be found here. When not writing, Linda is an avid reader, classical guitar player, and a practitioner of both Yoga and Tai Chi. In, addition, she helps her husband, a Luthier, build acoustic guitars. Linda enjoys her 200-gallon saltwater reef tank wherein resides her almost 19 year old yellow tang. A retired teacher, who began writing in earnest in January, 2015, Linda believes that poetry truly adds to the beauty of the world. Much of this beauty she feels can be found in the night sky and, on warm nights, her telescope serves as inspiration for this belief.