SHAKE THE DUST // BY ANIS MOJGANI

This one is for the fat girls
This one is for the little brothers
This is for the schoolyard wimps and for the childhood bullies that tormented them
For the former prom queen and for the milk crate ballplayers
For the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters
Shake the dust

This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them
For the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns
For the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children
For the night schoolers and for the midnight bike riders trying to fly
Shake the dust

For the 2-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-God
Shake the dust

For the boys with the beautiful sisters 
Shake the dust

For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy
For those gym class wallflowers
For the 12-year-olds afraid of taking public showers
For the kid who’s always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers
For the girl who loves somebody else
Shake the dust.

This is for the hard men who want love but know that it won’t come
The ones the amendments do not stand up for
For the ones who are forgotten
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to
Speak every time you stand, so you do not forget yourself
Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats a hundred thousand times a day
And that there are enough gallons of blood to make every one of us oceans
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and for the dust to collect in your veins

This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling
For the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jagger’s singing lips
For the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips
For the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived

This is for the tired and for the dreamers.
For the families that will never be like the Cleavers
With perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver
This is for the bigots, for the sexists, for the killers
For the big house jail-sentenced cats becoming redeemers
And for the springtime that always seems to know to show up after every single winter

This is for you
This is for you.

Make sure that by the time the fisherman returns you are gone
Because just like the days, I burn at both ends and every time I write
Every time I open my eyes, I am cutting out parts of myself just to give them to you
So shake the dust
And take me with you when you do
For none of this has ever been for me
All that pushes and pulls
And pushes and pulls
It pushes for you.

So grab this world by its clothespins, and shake it out again and again
And hop on top and take it for a spin
And when you hop off, shake it again
For this is yours. 

Make these words worth it.

Make this not just another poem that I write
Not just another poem like just another night, that sits heavy above us all
Walk into it, breath it in
Let it crash though the halls of your arms
Like the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood
Pumping and pushing, making you live
Shaking the dust

So when the world knocks at your front door
Clutch the knob tightly and open on up

And run forward into its widespread open arms
With your hands in front of  you
Fingertips trembling though they may be