Archive for September 11th, 2020

Friday, 11 September 2020

Dust by Peter Bland

I’m tired of living in old houses
with their sense of left-over lives.
I’m allergic to their dust. The stuff
suffocates me, gets in my eyes,
drifts through the open pores
of my skin. ‘It’s been
well lived in,’
the man said. At that
we should have turned away. Instead
we’re choking… on what?…
life-droppings?…bits
of what must have happened here
a thousand times before? We cough
up our own dust with this older muck. It
bloats the vacuum bag and brings us wheezing
down to our married knees. All this
from simple day to day living
ground down finer than air. Time
to be moving on. I want
what’s left of our lives to have
a planetary feel; an earth-
sway where dust won’t settle;
an undertow to every passing sneeze.

From: https://www.thelondonmagazine.org/archive-poetry-peter-bland/

Date: 1978

By: Peter Bland (1934- )