1.7.15

The Dust Catcher

I am The Dust Catcher, mother. I am woman.
I surround you. Use me. Breathe me. Let me
be your eyes, your womb, your plaything,
your canvass, your tomb.

I'm a nurse. A cursed fairy, come drink from
my fountains, be cleansed. I'm a witch. You
may wade in my reeds, shrivel up
in my cauldron.

I purify the stray, lick cock for the damned,
lead your pen, guide your brush, bend your
step that you might hush in my
eternal love, forgiven.

i wrote this poem at 17 when i realized many people drawn to me had dust on them. i did not want to be a dust catcher. i wanted no dust on me, and to be rid of my own dust. on LSD i tore the poem and deposited it in a public bin. yrs later laying under a sky of innumerable swiftly changing cloud faces, the eyes of a cloud belonging to the mouth and tongue of another, ears and cheeks of other clouds belonging to other clouds and evermorphing the words came from the sky just as i wrote them in a strong womans voice i finally recognized as my own.