Twirl in the Sun

Some days light dust,
Which means it might
Cross your stray thoughts,
As it did Carl’s,

That those gold motes
Float shed skin cells
Mixed in their duff,
Which could be coaxed

Back to new life
In a smart lab
And, who knows, bring
Back you or yours

In some form, too,
At least as clones.
How strange then, when
Some days light poems?