Species of Dust

I will show you fear in a handful of dust. 

White dust of finger-bones, milled in flesh 

Pestles, and the dust of the Sybil’s teeth,

Grinding each night in her fairy-dust sleep. 

Dust of crumbled ages, condominium 

Sages. Neanderthal dust in the Paleo caves. 

The dust, full of hands, fearless.

Dust in the darkness of surrogate wombs, 

Taste of sawdust in dustbunny mouths, 

And the moon-dust descending, 

And the moon-dust descending, 

Gold-dust grit in a waste of brown teeth,

Hundred-dollar dust in chapped noses, 

The rust and the dust, exponential. 

Until no more hands to fill with dust. 

And the moon-dust descending 

And the moon-dust descending 

        the moon         descending 

And                  dust        ending

David Huebert is a PhD candidate at Western University. His work has appeared in journals such as Grain, Matrix, The Puritan, The Antigonish Review and The Dalhousie Review, as well as previously in CV2. Recent writing is forthcoming in Poetry Is Dead, The Dalhousie Review and The Literary Review of Canada. A first book of poetry, We Are No Longer the Smart Kids in Class, is forthcoming from Guernica Editions in fall 2015.