Dust to Dust
Surfaces fluster dust,
flutter across our screens—
revealing the hidden lust
of light-and-shadow scenes—
old celluloid ideas crumbling.
Eyelids crumble like old film, flicker—
resist pulsating wakefulness.
Waves stream behind a boat—quicker
entropy glosses the lake’s surface.
Flies surface on a glossy window—
crowded dun specks—each self-hurled
hard against the dull winter glow—
drummers selling speculation that our world
will crumble to dust, surface in sleep and dreams.