Dust Girl (second draft)

July 17, 2009

She watches dust:
this woman in a tie died top,
from underneath a miroscope
she tells me while she sips a coke –
she keeps an eye
on things too small to find
without machines:
particles like quantum scenes,
someone must
she watches dust
the levels in the air,
she tells me standing
by some stairs
inside the night.

She tells a ship it’s got to dowse
the coal it’s dumped
to cut the dust.

She samples heaps
upon the beach
she writes to them
their SX3’s
they’ve got to go:

stations find
another home.

She has the time
to sit and stare
she is aware
where others aren’t:

the elderly
their tiny arms
their shallow chests
it’s hurts them more
then you’d expect.

She keeps an eye.
She keeps things clean.
She watches dust
from 8 till 3.

She says:
more things
we cannot see,
then things we can.

Her eyes are dark
her hands are pale
they have no marks
from dust or shale.

We listen to a midnight gale
drum against a plastic sheet

I watch for dust.

And then she leaves.


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