Clouds - Revision

These last few months you’ve hung
Like cottony scabs across the sun
Itching at the corners of the blue-veined sky

You’ve worn your graying locks
In strict ringlets that you pinned back
Or long sweeping streams of cream
Sometimes, you let all your wisps hang loose

And a little sun slips through

Try throwing your hands up
Collecting sunbeams with your fingertips
And lettin’ the sunlight pool around your slender ankles