by_skylight raze jets strafe the seabed overhead. that's_us. two tired shooting stars learning how to fall in reverse. down where i'm drowning, there's the smell of charcoal on the grill. a child's wordless cries. bird calls i've never heard or thought to listen for. i scan the skyline for looming threats. you can still see the scars from where three sets of terminal teeth hungry for a way to wear themselves down tore the skin from the fence's top rail. there isn't much missing. just enough to make you look twice. i talk to the one who's buried here. sometimes i ask for her intervention. not knowing how much pull she has. but knowing she'll do all she can. each day she makes the earth her instrument and sings me something. for three nights running she's burned a single black pinhole into the ceiling above the roof that hides my head from harm. one small eye of bright white light. i can stand at the venting window in my bedroom and feel her watching over me. i hope she's there again tonight. 221025 what's it to you? who go blather from