Sarala Estruch In the attic
Over every surface , in each dark corner – a hairy film A grey-white growth obscuring the base of a lamp A spidery knotted clump on the head of a desk . Small mounds amassed hoarily on the brown flaps of cardboard boxes Sitting thickly on pile after sloping pile of books – Dust . I have come , searching , and it is everywhere . Just my presence is enough to unsettle what has lain so long untouched Unlooked at , stored away into oblivion . Out of sight . Out of mind . As I step , I can feel it shifting , unclumping , ungathering Airborne now , particles swirling into my nostrils , into my lungs .
How unsettling to unsettle all that has settled over the years
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