Dust Borealis



Driving home from the airport I notice

my old school flatten down in the city centre.


No traffic. People indoors, folding hours

in cupboards, in boxes without keys.


A land of graves reflected upside down

in each blind spot. Letters pinned


to a blazer, white socks mother mended

at night, trace the playground where


children abandoned a beachball.

The wideness of urban carparks


risen from ashes, dust borealis

glows above the steering wheel.


© Maria Stadnicka, July 2020

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