Can I be the coffee stain on your desk

A ring of carelessness now sunk in.

Or the mug you chipped when you washed it up

And sucked your teeth and squinted

Then put it on the rack all the same,

Because it only made it more your cup.

By becoming less, it became more.

More than the sum of its parts.

 

Or perhaps I could be the watermarks

Wrinkling the pages of your book, from

When you were too impatient to wait

And took it into the bath with you.

It got a frown and a hasty blot

And that was deemed enough. Because

All it really meant was it was loved.

You didn’t want to be apart.