December 4, 2009

Dust

Dust

The grandfather clock in the living room,
Consumed by the sandstorm.
The table of pictures,
covered in a blanket.
The cupboard in the dining room,
captured by the floating snow.
All revived by the touch of a rag,
 by the liquid that exterminates it all.
For now.
But when each piece of dust lands,
The rag will do its duty
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
A stalemate in chess,
two kings left on the table.
But one false move,
a few months wasted
and dust
will emerge
victorious.

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