Non-Erotic PoetryDusting Sure Stirs Motes UpMy companions in the sunbeam,
float in eddies when she cracks
the blinds and sniffs the grey
of disuse. Backflow fills
the empty space behind
the feather duster. Wild
vertigo tumbles until floral
wisps of flickered passage
settle on the aging surface.
Z23
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English
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