Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes
Dust to dust.
We become again that
from which we were formed.
Shall I devolve into dust bunnies?
Am I a cobweb of airborne dust
linked like thin strands of DNA
lost up there in a ceiling corner?
Perhaps I will settle upon my books
whose spines would wait so long
for me to give them supine relief.
Some say that a home’s dust is
made of skin cells peeled away
from us so casually every day.
So, I have settled into the vents
that breathe air in and out
of these everyday electronics,
winding up on a motherboard
or other parts to slow things down.
I am settled too on the picture frames,
and you may take your finger and rub
it across the flat glass atop a photo
even though you can see us just fine.
Then brush off your fingertips with
your skin’s friction to clean them:
My dust ascends with yours in the air.
Ronnie Sirmans is an editor at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. His poems have appeared in The South Carolina Review, Gargoyle, and elsewhere.
- Editor's Note from January 05, 2016
Issue 39: Your brain’s missing links, the scales of justice, and why seeing sin is such a relief. /
- Hallelujah, I’m a Miserable Sinner
It’s only after we meet our Savior that we understand how much we need him. /
- Creation by Subtraction
Be thankful you’ve lost much of your mind since your youth. /
- Why God Delights in the Metric System
Fairness and justice were difficult before we looked to creation for our measurements. /
- Wonder on the Web
Issue 39: Links to amazing stuff.