Dust
By ecologist
Dust She stood there Dust, like blood on her hands would not come off. Years of cleaning ground eons of dust into crevasses lining her palms until the dust became her life and her children cried. Written October 25th, 2001 © on Oct 25 2001 12:58 AM PST 10 • 0 • 9
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"Dust She stood there Dust, like blood on her hands would not come off. Years of cleaning ground eons of dust into crevasses lining her palms until the dust became her life and her children cried...."