I found it in the back of the cabinet

I found it in the back of the cabinet,

behind the things I actually use,

a tin can with no label,

no indication of what it held

or when it was put there,

just dent and dust and time.

The dent is shaped like a fingerprint,

like someone pressed it

and the metal remembered,

kept the impression of a hand

that's probably been dead for decades.

There's rust on the bottom,

that specific rust that means

whatever was inside

has been inside

for longer than memory,

longer than anyone who put it there

has been alive.

I could pry it open.

I could look inside.

But what if it's empty?

What if it's full?

What if what I find

is neither one nor the other,

just the ghost of a choice

made by someone I'll never know,

in a kitchen that doesn't exist anymore,

for a reason I can't reconstruct.

So I put it back

in the same dark spot,

behind the things I use,

and let it keep its secret.