You still graze on engine sounds
By Simon Perchik

You still graze on engine sounds
on that darkness from some plane
at the same time each night
prowling and between your jaws
 

—you can't breathe
—the slightest sound
is ravenous, circling
then exactly overhead
thins out the air
the way this sky still devours
each star falling back
on fire, gasping for more fire
 

—you can't take it anymore
jump! though sleep too
is painful and you stagger
night over night
far from this rickety bed
hidden in smoke, black, trembling.

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