Sediment

I found a piece of the neighbor's roof

half-buried in the mud by the beans.

It’s cold and flat, a jagged proof

of what a midnight thunderstorm means.

It’s a heavy, dark gray slice

that looks like a chalkboard kept in the rain.

I tried to scratch it once or twice

but it won't hold a mark or a stain.

You can’t write on a surface this old.

It only knows how to split and to fall,

staying sharp and staying cold,

refusing to be useful at all.