Crush

The dresser moved a jagged inch.

I felt the dry, metallic pinch

of dust against the floor.

Behind the heat, I found the box

away from all the keys and locks

beside the bedroom door.

The red is choked with flakes of grey.

The lint has worked its quiet way

into the heavy grain.

I press my thumb to clear the dirt.

The dent is there, a shallow hurt

where shadows will remain.