Chewed Plastic

Found it in the junk drawer,

under the dead batteries and rubber bands.

An old blue pen, cap missing.

A Bic, cheap and forgotten.

But the end, the back end,

was all chewed up. Not nibbled.

Gnawed. Deep, ridged gouges

in the soft plastic.

I knew those teeth.

The way they worried things,

worried a thought, worried a call,

worried a life, I suppose.

Felt the phantom pressure,

the give of the plastic against a jaw.

A strange, small, physical echo

of someone who isn't here anymore.

Still leaving their mark,

on something useless.