“clouds to believe in” by Tony Iantocsa

a radio tower emits
red mosquitoes like
static in the young ear
and this morning is
a breadcrumb rolling
on a windowsill
across the courtyard
the wind through
the screen plucks
an ocean with this
landscape’s blistered
finger stumbling
into the room at the top
of this particular hill
where the high sun
splinters through
trees like threads
of a straightjacket
and all the clouds
we believe in