don’t need a cleaner

IMG_0058.jpgthese second floor

windows have held together

in the frames

of this wall longer

than i’ve breathed.


and what’s dirt?

you could wonder,

when we’re all thinner,

dirtier, than we’d



holding life we can’t know,


moon from our cheeks

when turned from the sun.


when you meet ground,

when your eyelids have eclipsed pupils,

will you be able to say to

open earth


i’ve been here before? held soil

in my pores, noticed this



before joining it

in a different form?





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