Particles of matter
Particles of matter float, abandoned, searching,
I see it everywhere, death shares my space.
It annoys me.
I will wipe the grey away, yet I know
my cleaning stops nothing.
I know it will settle again, everything settles
Dust, a variety of things, pollutants, pollen, mould.
A shag pile of memories
covers the objects of my life.
These objects mean enough
that I tend to them, keep them clean.
It would be easier not to care,
not to have things but
Dust, a variety of things, animal dander, hair, decomposing insects.
Like a Bowerbird, I arrange
and show off my interior with displays.
A jack in the box, with a loose hinge.
Corks that hold dates,
toys that hold memories,
books that hold wisdom, my life,
Dust, a variety of things, dust mites and their excrement.
I have never learned to put down
that which I pick up.
Where I am, will always be full,
tangible proof I am here.
An old gas lamp, lego men and
a cookie jar full of marbles,
Dust, a variety of things, fibres, dryer lint, insulation.
Ornaments beautify my spaces.
Some have sat on many surfaces, been splashed
in different shades of paint,
Photographs, travel trinkets, a blown glass pig,
holding the past for me to see.
They look back unimpressed,
Dust, a variety of things, skin flakes shed by my family and friends
Airborne plankton in reverse,
waste products hang,
looking to rest on my shelves, my frippery.
Life constantly making its own display,
with particles of matter and fingerprints,
On second thoughts, I guess it
Dust, a variety of things, proof that I am here, alive and living.
Kids, I know I drive you nuts with my cleaning, and a little dust means life but seriously dust mites are a thing, keep your spaces clean! Love your nagging mum xx