balm ovenbird I dreamed your body, burnt and broken, your voice swallowed by shock so only your eyes could scream. As I approached your fallen form, your body healed, spontaneously, as if my being was ancient balm, as if I could squeeze myself through a glass dropper into your mouth to loose the song at the back of your throat, as if my mind was sterile gauze to wrap you in against the whole abrading world. When you could stand, rain came from a cloudless sky, and I held an umbrella over your head, and ran as fast as I could to keep pace with your sprinting spirit. It’s all I want—to shield you from harm—but if it’s impossible I’ll run as far as I must to keep your face in view, to keep your hands close enough to grasp, as we’re soaked to the bone and given up for lost. 261023 what's it to you? who go blather from