Mattress Canyon
by clippedtrust
· 10/11/2025
Published 10/11/2025 16:45
The charger fell again.
My hand, reaching, found
the narrow cut,
this dark, forgotten town.
A half-dollar, dull,
from '82.
A rubber band, bone-stiff,
grey as old wool.
The dust, a thick felt.
Things slipped,
things lost.
A quiet, slow melt.