I Pushed It Back

I moved the dresser two inches

to reach the outlet behind it.

That's all I was doing.

The gap opened and I saw it immediately—

the white edge of folded paper

in the dust-gray dark between the dresser

and the wall.

I knew the fold.

I knew the handwriting showing through.

I stood there with the dresser held

two inches from the wall

and I thought about it.

Then I pushed the dresser back.

Plugged in what I needed.

The dresser flush against the wall again.

It's still in there.

I don't know what I'm waiting for—

or if waiting

is even the right word

for what this is.