I found it behind the twistties and the tape —

I found it behind the twist-ties and the tape —

superglue, the cap fused permanently shut.

The label half-peeled, the tip in a shape

I'd call past using. Someone had once cut

the seal, squeezed hard, then put it back.

The dent was still there. I tried the cap.

It held. I stood there in the Tuesday slack

of the kitchen morning, some small gap

between what I came for and what I found —

just me and a junk drawer and a thing

that hardened into itself. No sound.

No giving. Just the sealed, the remaining.

I found the pen I came for. Closed the drawer.

The glue stayed in the dark, as before.