To Dust

We move the dead
From place to place
Those fragments of feet
That fraction of face
It upsets us more
Than we think we know
Our best bits flaked
With the cycle they go
With cloth and with hand
And with squirt of a can
It’s good-bye to life
To the surface of man
We can’t keep it still
And we can’t hold it in
Our edges all frayed
Our control very slim
We lose day by day
As the race runs itself
The dust piles up high
On ledge and on shelf

Rachel Fox

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