Stranger


Jack Litterst | August 2018



I met a stranger.
She lowered herself from the tallest treetop anywhere.
When she embraced me I almost became a missile.

I almost became water.

She held me almost too close.
Whole lives flashed past.
Romances and buried dreads.
Whole loves.
Unbearable.
She held me almost too close.

Lightning like lavender petals.
I gave up drinking.
I gave up breath.
I floated above the ground.
An inch or two, an inch or two above.

My skin was weeping like a mother at the crucible,
Like a mother at the end of the line.
I almost became a missile.










Interested in contributing to The Dust Magazine? Check out our submissions page for more info.

The Dust Magazine is a 501-c3 nonprofit organization under the umbrella of Moab Arts Center and run entirely by volunteers. We rely on business sponsorships, reader contributions, and donated submissions to continue the mission.


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Interested in contributing to The Dust Magazine? Check out our submissions page.





The Dust Magazine is a 501-c3 nonprofit organization under the umbrella of Moab Arts Center and run entirely by volunteers. We rely on business sponsorships, reader contributions, and donated submissions to continue the mission.