backyard raze i count twenty-six paces from the back door to the end of the green throw rug i like to pretend is mine. another twenty-four from one_side of the fence to the other. what i'm standing inside of isn't a box. but it's close. there's a grey stone i haven't seen before. the ground beneath my bare feet is so much stiffer than i thought it would be. so uneven. i see what looks like a feather that's fallen from a blackened bird. i pick it up. it breaks apart and smears my skin with soot. a leaf of ash where no fire has been. 220622 what's it to you? who go blather from