Tread

I found it wedged inside the rubber lug,

a copper face gone flat against the stone.

It must have taken quite a heavy tug

to keep it there while walking all alone.

The gravel bit a canyon through the date.

It’s worth exactly what it was before,

but nobody would bother with the weight

of prying it up from the kitchen floor.

I left it in the grooves to wear away.

It’s easier to keep the grit you know

than try to spend what’s ruined by the day,

or keep a thing that has nowhere to go.