The sky has been a heavy plate

The sky has been a heavy plate

of wet and winter-colored slate.

It's hard to see where buildings end

or where the clouds begin to bend.

I found a piece of roof today

drowning in the driveway's gray.

A jagged tooth, a flat black bone

that fell out of the house alone.

I held it 'til my thumb went numb.

It's colder than the rain has come.

It's sharp and dark and sits so still

inside the puddle on the sill—

no, I mean the ground.