An Angrier Shade of Blue
The oceans of the thrift store globe
Were not robin egg blue or
Rain-less skies, but rather
The hue of an oncoming storm.
Patchwork continents, countries redistributed, renamed
Were orange, green, contrasting the blue that came close
To black. The other items surrounding
Were unremarkable: glass milk and soft drink bottles,
A Philco radio, faded stuffed animals with weary fixed stares.
Everything in dust, window included
Itself, covered in a film of traffic exhaust residue.
She stood looking through the filthy window.
The globe spoke to her,
That world on a gold swivel,
That terrible, angry shade of blue.
She picked up a piece of broken concrete
And threw it against the glass, the sound
Dull, yet sad and ugly. 6:30 in the morning,
And nobody that morning was startled
By breaking glass. She held the globe close,
Shuffling off as the sunrise turned the alleys pastel
Clouds parted for therobin egg sky.
Finally, the world was hers.
About the Author: Troy Schoultz is a poet, analog collage artist, and former instructor at the University of Wisconsin in Oshkosh. He has three full-length collections of poetry published. He makes his home in Oshkosh, WI because he likes being next to bodies of water
Image Credit: Kskhh “GEO Globe” CC BY-SA 4.0, Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
As It Ought To Be 
