meteor tender_square the tail is so long and bright i mistake it for a bolt of lightning because there’s rain. the impact creates a fireball in my neighbor’s backyard, the rock impaling earth in whiplash seconds. i had let my dog out to shit before i was aware of conditions and feared it had run away. i called the dog to no avail. i ran through the grand house toward the verandah, and suddenly the dog was beside me—a spotted shepherd like an inverted snowflake obsidian; black blooms in place of white, tawny instead of dark. i hugged the dog gratefully. i shoved my hip into a brown floral couch to create a barrier in front of the front door, the same couch from the first house i ever lived in as a baby, the same couch from christmas photographs with my dad in his velour bathrobe. when i return inside, i watch an intruder enter through the main door and ascend the stairs. he ignores me though i call after him to come down. a force without; a force within. and my hands are blackened by the residue of hurtling rock. 220329 what's it to you? who go blather from