Particle Board

The coffee is scorched in the pot by the door,

and the rain’s getting tracked on the tile of the floor.

I’m tracing a crater, a cigarette burn,

waiting for news and a key in return.

The edge of the table is starting to peel,

revealing the wood that is grainy and real.

Beneath the fake marble, the particle grit

is all that is left of the center of it.