Janet Norman
Knox
First, let’s talk about what we know. We know dust is roughly 95% human dander depending on the number of household pets.
We know dander is dead skin, we know dead skin is a raft of genetic stuff, elementary DNA, Watson
and Crick. Seriously, let’s talk about not knowing where the exosphere ends and space begins, the white and black of it, the line between them and us or us and nothing.
Let’s talk about what can happen there, where we thin into nothing, exposed to radiation, no pressure or friction.
I know most of the dust has settled, but there must be a mite of it wafting where atoms speed up, escaping gravity.
Is that where DNA is copied, cloned dust merging with solar wind?
If only a minute particle of you would fall back to earth, a new you might grow, you and your dog.
The author is grateful to Rhino, where first this poem was published. t
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Copyright, Janet Norman Knox. |