Dirt, Dust, Den

By A’ Ja Lyons

Mud, sticks, and stones
The bare bones of life
Dirt which incubates growth
Sticks sheltering the most micro of Earth’s harvesting hands
Stone measurements of pressure we extract

Stumbling through the rolling woods,
Not unlike the yellow sac spider stuck
clawing out of its own trap
Fumbling for food,
unaware of the crumbling black, silty, soil
Swallowing wholes, parts and particles
Roots worked in nets
Breaking and holding
The topsoil as bottoms work
Absorbing, supporting, containing –

Up in smoke
Feel the heat
The flame ignited by life –
Crosses, touched, a speck of luck
Dusted like the crops in the depths of a Fertile Crescent
Ashes, dust
Sometimes ever and all is still
never enough

Circling ‘round bluffs searching for
chemical compositions to strike a desire
For fire to roar in places and spaces
Where seats are gathered ‘round
far from town
To inhale, exhale, expel
Munch, crunch, grunt
And escape in moments of make-believe

Buzzing and humming along,
sights and songs of sweet dreams
Dripping like sweat down backs,
honey down combs,
Beehives working week after week
Making samples to treat
Something sweet we steal and eat
As the dry weather winds carry
soil, sand, and sense loose cross countryside

A’ Ja Lyons has been published in several print and online publications, including Sinister Wisdom, Decolonial Passage, Response, and Lucky Jefferson. 

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