I dropped the white pill and watched it dive

I dropped the white pill and watched it dive

behind the oak beast where the dust stays alive.

I knelt with a light and a bit of a curse

to find things were bad, and then things were worse.

A pink plastic wing in a blanket of gray,

a butterfly clip from a much better day.

She left it three years back, or maybe it’s four,

stuck in the felt on the edge of the floor.

I can’t move the dresser, it’s far too much weight,

and digging it out feels a little too late.

So I’ll leave the ghost in the lint and the hair,

and pretend that I didn't see it down there.