Dust

Manahil Bandukwala



Your skin golden

 against stretches

of great lakes. I distract myself

with cyan sunspots created from captivation. Wait

for sky to purple. Great dragon

fights horizon. Only water

can break through this land

of our unyielding. I point

at every rock and ask,

is that

the Canadian shield? Backlight of sun

makes cloud shapes

more distinct, mouse scurries away

from serpent’s wide jaws

Disappointment is momentary. First pink streaks

break across gaps above us. Rainbow

continues to spot the window. I capture

this moment in ink

 you take it in film. I want you

to want

the forest the way it is

the way it kisses

the clouds with everything it has.

Sky tinges purple as it waits
for a command. How many trees

cover this tiny surface?

 How can they extend
where we can’t reach?

Stay with me.

Lone cloud

persists, with same hopes as us. Pretend

the haze between tree dips
is a trick of northern countryside

not train smoke

chugging along

its twisting track.

Manahil Bandukwala is the author of two chapbooks, Paper Doll (Anstruther Press, 2019) and Pipe Rose (battleaxe press, 2018). She was the 2019 winner of Room magazine's Emerging Writer Award, and won the Lilian I. Found Award for poetry in 2019. See her work at manahils.com.