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Dust by Marc Isaac Potter

The oxygen of the air has little chance to compete when dust  whips itself up into a storm. The dust is not superior, just so granular. So much bigger. If a lizard opens its nose, its mouth, its ears, the dust moves in like a bulldozer.  ...

… Even when there is no dust in the air at all, it can suddenly rise, almost miraculously – a terrifying, vicious miracle.  The oxygen gives up its attempt to seek safe harbor in the lungs, brain, nostrils of the dying lizard just as also the water of the desert abandons its duties – even the vapors of the waters – they just plain leave and don’t come back.

Dust: Text

Marc Isaac Potter (they/them) is a differently-abled writer living in the SF Bay Area.  They have been published in Fiery Scribe Review, Feral A Journal of Poetry and Art,  Poetic Sun Poetry, and Provenance Journal. You can find Marc on Twitter at @marcisaacpotter.

Dust: Text
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