Unclaimed

The vacuum groaned and finally quit,

clogged with hair and floorboard grit.

I dumped the bin against the bin,

and heard a sudden, silver spin.

A blue aluminum bone, scratched deep,

a relic I wasn't meant to keep.

The area code is worn to a ghost

from the ceramic rim of a breakfast roast.

It hit the liner with a hollow sound,

another thing that won't be found.