The steel dust

 I'm riding the bus too late.
I'm a piece of work.
Flying through the abandoned factory.
Magnetic steel dust rubbed between fingernails.

The real me escaped the furnace.
Burn marks healed.
My voice still mute.
Bound by shadows, I wait

The bus never came.
So I had to spend the night.
On a concrete floor.
The steel scraps an extension.

Night falls, the crow self dim rises within me.
Above the parapet over this faded building.
Roof.top phantoms sprint and leap.
Covering the city.

Specks of me...
Pass beautifully though the broken windows.
Climbing high into the night air.
Toward the merciless moon.

From the condemned factory.
Like tiny insects using the breeze.
Staining the night.
Tainting the night.
Steel dust sticking to skin magnetic to blood