The Weight of Dust

Up root, swallow sea

One and one on the other

They pay in dust

Great silent clouds of it


It collects under fingernails, coats eyelashes,

settles in the valleys of their ears

Weighs them down before they get any place


In the sun-low our faces contort

with every crack of torment we have never felt

Stretching troubled fingers from brow to hairline

Pushing thumb tip to temple


This standing silence

Filled with the myth of space and altitude

Like a broken ladder reaching up to a false roof

Repulsed, we point away from oblique senses


And harbour bigots and liars in ghost blaming servitude

Knowing nothing of the will of pain

Translating ferocity into wild insect clicking

Like when sucking a fruit core slices your tongue

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