Morning Dust

birds lift off,

flatten my body with a
steamroller

snow learns to melt
for the first
time
against the strain of my
unworthy
eyelashes

it takes oil for me to
breathe,
and I let off
fumes
to talk,
head filled
with
exhaust

birds lift off,

let my eyes
endure the mountains
and rudely ignore
sleep

I feel cold to be home
in the stale doorway

push away my palms
let my hips
collect dust
like porcelain

birds lift off,

into the dim
sunset of the
city lights

even the night
forgets to
stare me
in the face

palms against
hardly a cheekbone
all I see
are your shoulder blades
telling me
to stop playing tricks
on the
morning
filled with
dust