Pitted

The cork is tired.

It’s been stabbed too many times

by reminders I never followed through on.

I tried to pin the dentist card,

but the hole was already too wide.

The tack just fell.

It hit the floor with a tiny, tinny sound.

Behind it, a yellowed flyer

for a band I don't remember

clings to the bottom corner.

And a rusted pin holds a receipt

for a wool coat I haven't seen in years.

The board is mostly just gaps now.

More air than wood.