Above cubes

the sky is tiled and stained

and spotted and torn

dust has turned to grime

in its crevices

and only segmented slabs

of lights peer through

a drab grid of aged clouds

these clouds have valves

to drizzle their rain

in case of fire or smoke

or someone too mischievous

and in an effort lost

someone else attempted

to hang cheer in the form

of a pastel pendant banner

across the skeleton of it all