Classic Poem

Perhaps you've felt her blue stare, cold as sea glass. She never shuts her all-seeing eyes. She silently watches your keys tumble from your pocket, jingling their unheard brass alarm. When your wedding ring slides from your finger like a greased halo, she doesn't even flinch. Come October, leaves spiral past her indifferent face. She lets them go, never blinking, never beckoning them back to your maple's empty branches.
She watches impassively as babies, dizzy with first steps, teeter at the tops of stairs, as flowerpots twitch on window ledges. She observes the inevitable trajectories of flawed angels and jets, numb to the fiery amber and emerald beauty of both meteorites and bombs. Falling tears and eggs, skyscrapers and mountains — they're all the same, plummeting as insignificantly as scrapings from burnt toast. It's useless to try to catch the crumbs of the crumbling universe. It would be absurd to hold out her arms.
Doesn't anyone else notice? The sky is opening its mouth. She can see into its black throat, that shining tunnel of stardust and salt. Apparently only she hears the faint, terrible sound of heaven swallowing its own milky tongue.