That pale shimmer
of white is not
glass reflecting
noon – is not
someone’s lace
dress – nor new
fallen snow –

Ashes, ashes
coat the street
of ruined houses –
and amid the rubble
a lone arm
upthrust toward
a sky now forever
out of reach.

W. Luther Jett is a native of Montgomery County, Maryland, whose poetry has been published in numerous journals, including: The GW Review, Poetica, Syncopated City, Synæsthesia, ABRAXAS, Scribble, Beltway, Innisfree, Xanadu, Haiku Journal, Steam Ticket, Potomac Review, and Main Street Rag. His chapbook, “Not Quite” has recently been published by Finishing Line Press.