Stainless

The 9-volt was hiding under a pile

of menus and dead rubber bands.

Instead, my fingers found the steel,

the cold flat plate of a name

I used to answer to in the rain.

It’s hooked to a key for a door

that belongs to someone else now.

The black rubber ring is split,

cracked open like a dry throat

waiting for a drink that never comes.

I put it back in the dark.

The smoke detector keeps chirping.