gazer

on her back now
fallen among flowers
peering into the blue
looking for signs of doom
a disappearing ozone-layer
maybe a spy-plane
cruising silently overhead,
sucking up e-mails, on-line chats, phone-calls
an incriminating tornado of information
feasting on fears and hopes
her most embarrassing self
she hums a nursery rhyme in her head
hiding thoughts from the evil gazer in the sky
(the way her mom used to hide her thoughts from God)
back on her knees, not praying
teetering on that edge between what is known
and what is not
she weaves images of plagues and nuclear warfare
a wry utopia
naked hell on earth
in mass hysteria she could hide
embalm herself in calm
and there,
will she find?
a home