The Hidden Container

I knew the Tupperware was there,

tucked away like a secret too big for the shelf,

the plastic stretched tight,

a dull green bulge pressing out from inside.

When I cracked the seal,

a hiss like slow breath escaped,

clouded the cold with something sour, angry,

a slick, creeping breath that filled the fridge light,

and stuck to my skin like shame.

I almost put the lid back,

pretending it was just another forgotten thing,

but the weight of waiting pressed me down,

a slow terror in the back of the cold box,

where forgotten things rot alive.