Outlast Our Days

Crusty white calcium stains
From where the cats’ water dish
Has slopped on the laminate,

Can you picture that or not?
A royal blue throw-blanket
Of polyester velour

Spread out across a sofa
Made of a futon and frame,
Can you picture such a thing?

A couple of folding chairs,
A creaky rocker, a broom,
A few shelves of paperbacks,

It’s a plain scene full of plain,
Not-at-all-valuable things,
Messy junk—not rustic: cheap—

And yet time could preserve it,
Crushed flat, perhaps, as midden.
Could you picture this crap then?