Evidence Enough

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EVIDENCE ENOUGH


In the drawer off the kitchen island

jammed shut with dried pens, 

enough loose pennies to buy 


another week of neglect, half a deck

of cards, and all the stuff that both 

zip-ties a life together and makes it 

 

so hard to shuffle through, you’ll find

a key. It doesn’t fit the front door 

or the screened-in porch, and as far 


as you’re aware the neighbor’s is still 

mud-caked under the cracked paver

in case the pipes freeze when 


they’re out of town. Wait now… 

Nope, the teeth don’t quite line up 

with the one from the old place


either, another copper reminder

of all the places you don't belong. Still,

in this drawer of neither here nor there,


at least you can be sure there’s

a door—somewhere—with hinges

waiting, straining against the frame.


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