they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Monday, March 05, 2007

dust

at once, the rug is pulled out
and the dust settles
in piles -
hundreds of piles
ugly
dirty
piles
filled with dog hair and pieces of pasta
sweater fuzz
potting soil
shoe leather
dead leaves
and you want to dust it off
make it clean
somehow
again
or for the first time really,
but you don’t know where
you put the broom
or why the dust
seems more familiar
than a broomed floor ever would.
and so, you place the rug
over the dust
with its ornate design
tassels
loomed art for trampling
and your forget
for a minute
about how dirty the floor
has become.

3 Comments:

  • At 12:34 PM, Blogger Faith said…

    Wait a minute...have you been sneaking around my house without me knowing it? This sounds suspiciously familiar...

    Just kidding, of course. :) I love your poetry, Jess. And I'm not an easy-to-please reader of poetry...

     
  • At 3:17 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    nesting?

     
  • At 3:21 PM, Blogger Pensive Girl said…

    no!
    and, i'm not pregnant.
    thank you very much :)

     

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