Hands Full Of Dust

all about
dust that used to be
under a Roman boot
or on a Union horse’s flank or
in the Triangle Shirtwaist fire
or on a slave’s chain, on
an old Apache’s
dead open eye, maybe from
under the burned beam
in a bombed Japanese house —  
who knows
where all the dust on your hands
is from? Just try to remember
you’re always leaving it
all over everything.
Handfuls of dust smearing
Now.  You are carrier of history
in all you touch and
you honestly can’t ever get clean.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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