It’s everywhere

I see more dust than alive humans.
I wonder how many old eyelids and curious
fingertips are sprinkled across our bookshelves.
There must be the shadow of an anus or two
floating around the bathroom skirting boards.
The range of DNA on the front door handle
has been known to stress me out.
There are scratches on our bedroom floorboards
we were told were from former cats.
I can hear the struggles of ghost-meows
on the particularly tough days.
Snakes get a lot of attention for shedding their skin
but we are not the people we once were.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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