Dust Coat
The rain is washing
the dust out of the sky;
a red and grey pall
stretching along the coast.
The birds flap and
flex their wings to wash the dust away,
a noisy mynah
shrieks and beaks air, as if to say
A dust coat is a vale of tears
the fields and trees
covered so thick and the smell
of fire in the air,
a dust coat is a false drink
waving through the
sky.
Nick Cave wears a
dust coat, the eyes
on his sleeves
winking back at black embers,
arms above his
head in a slow marionette
spinning across the
room, his pockets full of dust.
Kasey Chambers has a
dust coat, she carries
it with her on the
road. It’s creased and stained
after being packed
in her case, but she wears it
every night under
the strap of her guitar.
Kim Gordon has a
dust coat and matching pants
she wore them
meeting a stranger on a train,
she wore them going
crazy, she wore them getting sick
she wore them with a
hair shirt gifted to her by Thurston Moore.
