Dust
has been built up
atop the grout, between every square tile,
darkening into mounds along the top of the base
boards, hair, tissue, lint, a leaf and pink peony petals
sneezes, boxes stacked like artillery, mortar, bricks and
explosives set just so-goodwill gathered in standard black trash
bags, a segregation of sorts, some have labels, tape, names, places
congratulations ribbons, important and fragile balance atop
the denser matters,
the walls leaning in on the things consume
all space never room for more than what has been collected in
between the seams, along the borders, under the foundation and
hanging on the edge.
Photograph by Carol M. Highsmith [Public domain], 'abandoned gas station in Selma, Alabama 2006 via Wikimedia Commons.
