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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