Dust Settles

You know the deal.
Get to a place, unpack your books,
set up your action figures,
shed a bunch of skin cells to mark your territory.

Then you find you’ve said yes to something, or
perhaps a reluctant no,
and again (again?) you re-learn
cardboard box assemblage
and tetris skills,
shedding nouns as you go.

It’s the final cleaning when it gets to you.

Blame the settled dust, those bits of you and others,
and between the filthy paper towels and the sneezes,
let the tears clear your eyes and mind.

Seal the last box.
Be on your way.


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