there’s a flimsy wooden shelf
in your room.
a red physics book
with thick black lettering
lies on it.
to the left
a compendium of
western colonization
after 1682.
to the right
a set of Bose speakers
that often throb
Bach and Mozart-
(Wu Tang though
when I come
beside it a badge with
your name raised
and your smile
carrying that certain
dim view.
a plastic model of
a rocket-
obscenely smooth,
and phallic
along with your “bright idea”
(a haphazard collection of
nuances scrawled on it)
and in the corner
behind the board is a
printed photograph.
a memory of
long dead past
where we were
unknowingly clasped
with bliss plastered
And I have to laugh
who would’ve guessed
the barely hanging
shelf would outlast

– SC


19 thoughts on “shelf

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