so speak
plainly, eve
of the nature of dust and ashes
are we all
men of sand
are the beaches made of our
skinboneshair
are we
Him, too, jesus
I mean—did HisDust
and mydust
collide

query:
when adam’s lips
brush your thigh is it only
dust when your limbs tangle
themselves like vines is it dust
to dust to
dust