WD-40 Neglect

Every time I go reaching for cotton or soap,

the cabinet gives up on its last bit of hope.

It screams like a saw hitting metal and bone,

a sound that is better left strictly alone.

A dusting of black powder falls on the white,

where the screw has backed out just a little too light.

I look at the hinge and I look at the floor,

then I close it and decide not to wash anymore.