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The soot still stains me,

Clings to my skin

Never lets go.

I can still feel it

In the cracks where

Fingers meet hand

Or break apart from another,

Stretching towards their own suns.

Still feel it

Where my arms and legs bend,

Where my neck extends

From torso

To connect head to chest

Brain to blood pump metronome

Two structures keeping each other alive

As best they can.

It defies fingernails

Dares soap to come get it,

It laughs at Lady MacBeth,

Saying you don’t KNOW

from spots.

It splits atoms and seeps

Below skin,

Drops into veins and

Visits blood cells,

Passes time with amino acids

In the stomach

makes itself

Permanent parts of us

Inside and out.

The soot is still in the air

Still landing on cars I no longer own

Still forming a crust

On everything I touch

Still invading conversations,

Extending invitations

To unwanted thoughts

To stay long past their non-welcome.

Its still being made into ink,

Printed and shipped

To other countries,

Still fresh on the bombs we drop

On others.

We’re still importing it

Everywhere we go

Wearing it

Like sheriff stars we had

No business brandishing

And should never have forged.

we’re still crafting bars from it

still hurling it like epithets at each other.

Still clutching it

Like pressure and heat and time

Will reverse clocks

Or at least turn the soot

Back to bone flesh steel glass

Heart brain hope skyline

Like our September will just be given back to us.