This is not the only poem titled “Dust” that I have in line for the poetry box. But this is the one that speaks to this tired moment where many of us find ourselves, where we might find wonder or vision or inspiration, but lack what it takes to rise to it. Thus, Dorianne Laux unwittingly gave us a poem for pandemic, year two.
“Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.”
