infinite stardust

By Liana Kapelke-Dale

we are all stardust


at the end

we look back

turning to pillars

not of salt

but of ash

(sin did not bring us here)


the ash is easily sifted

through my fingers

and i feel it down

to the bone

through my skin

and muscles and tissues

(sinewy and pulsating and alive)

that someday i will also be

a pile of ash


where once were



a whorl of hair

and skin

that understood the caresses

of a lover



someone will sift me

through their fingers

their skin not understanding

searching for any remnant

of sense or consciousness

amongst the fine

chalky dust


(though ashes turn to ashes

and dust to dust

we remain as we started






I am a 24-year old perpetual student and poet with a taste for corporeal imagery and a general dislike of capital letters. I graduated with a B.A. in Spanish this May and am currently living in Lima, Peru. Language, music, and travel are my passions and I am a pickier eater than my five-year-old nephew.

Comments are closed.