Dust

by Francesca Lia Block & Lilly Barels

this is the end
my child’s nose fractured
the crusts of charred leaves curl
eyesight fading into dim
scarred legs
limping dogs then high-pitched mewls
then crash again
the prostituted words
there’s a perfect skeleton
matte ivory smoke
awaits in summer rain
too late–the trees already dead
there’s danger and
I turn to dust
with a crush of clown’s white rage