flash_patterns raze your belly glows steady orange in the top right corner of the frame. a few furtive others pulse and wane in the foreground — specks of green dust embedded in the last reel of film. three weeks of summer. that's all you get. some of your kind only live long enough to give birth, never knowing their children. the brevity of your beauty is an object lesson in how to carve craters into the darkness that surrounds us with whatever light we possess. i crane my neck to track the height of your flight until you're just another star in the burnished vault above my bed. 220618 what's it to you? who go blather from