Pantry in disarray

The door groaned open,

a rotten sigh like the cans

behind the pasta boxes,

some dented, some rusty, all forgotten.

Sugar spilled its slow, grainy trail

like ants have marched through hopes,

a dim shelf packed beyond reason,

secret crumpled bags and dusty jars,

everything shoved and slipping.

I’m hunting a can opener

in this chaos, tangled and silent,

like some kind of emergency

forgotten inside the mess.

Tonight, the pantry is a map of neglect

and the slow weight of small failures

that pile up while you don’t look.