Clean Spot

The tape finally gave up the ghost today.

It turned into a yellow, crystalline dust

and the takeaway menu for 'Golden Crust'

slid down the door in a quiet way.

I picked it up and saw the prices from years ago,

before the place burned down or the owners moved.

It’s a map of a hunger that hasn't improved,

a relic of a Tuesday I used to know.

I wiped the metal with a soapy rag

but there’s a rectangle there that won't go away.

A pale, clean patch where the light couldn't stray,

showing exactly where the ghost used to sag.