Ashes

some dust, some powder

some sand and shredded bones

gifted by

                        wind

to fly, to

            seek, to

            settle

onto the tabletops

                        and books abandoned:

some accessories forgotten

            but by

the dead

the

                                    lonely used-to-be-flesh —

            and blown off

            so

indignantly

            so

                        without a first (or second) thought.

ashes are yesterday as

flesh is today as

dreams are of tomorrow

            and blow and blink and

— poof —

                        and should we forget

the bitter

useless
                                    dust