When People Fall From the Sky, Frances Skylar
folks gasp, watch the streak
of their meteors across the black void with dread for where and how they will strike the dead soil of this planet. Satellites twirl and blink as they trace the trajectory of those shooting stars from above —always above— but down here the ground is as familiar as it is cold. Down here hunger and homelessness are our neighbours, or at least that house on the hill. This pandemic
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