The dust he releases contains minute skin fragments and DNA. A half dead, half alive dust that creates a map of his presence in the world.
The dust of tears is an infinitesimal diamantine that plagues the world. You can see it against the light: ephemeral sparkly sad clouds.
The dust of desire slides in zig zag over silky surfaces searching for a destiny and an orgasm. It produces very small spasmodic echoes.
The dust of sweat jumps and explodes in confetti of activity, fear and anxiety. It survives in small universes that expand and contract.
This poem is the first of a few by the extraordinarily talented Mina Polen that will appear on this site over the coming weeks. It was originally posted in 4 tweets through Mina’s Twitter account, @minafiction.