Some said the earth had slowed down and some
said the sun was drifting further out but we didn’t know
out of what. Scientists had long stopped returning the calls
from the radio DJs who’d never let them get a word in
anyhow. What had changed was vague and difficult
to define but it was apparent something had changed.
Or was in the process of changing. Perhaps not from
one thing to another like a tadpole or a skipped song,
but from one thing into its own difference. The years
wrinkling in the knuckles of your hand. A gathering up
of light. The news soon settled on calling it a Hole
in the Sky though everyone, even the news knew it wasn’t
that at all. The truth again too complicated, having many
specific ambiguities that a Hole in the Sky smooths over.
You had to admit it sounded better—like a dream we could
all be in together if we ever all managed to fall asleep
at the same time. Morning did not ruin it the way it ruins
so much else. The whir at the low end of the dial, soft
and low in spite of the shouts of the DJs. The sound
of something larger than us breathing out. The whole
of everything wishing us well. Meaning it this time.