Thomas Rickarby - The Aliens

The clouds unfold across the day,
blocking out the sunlight.

A fleet of wyrd animals,
going nowhere in particular.

Sullen beasts that cannot speak,
giants of the sky.

They do not eat, they do not sleep,
they have no way to love.

When a poet pens a strangled lyric
clouds crowd out the page.

And when a person fails to talk
they've clouds caught in their throat.

Thomas Rickarby

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-aliens-2/