The Grocery List on the Fridge Is Cave Art
and magnet-trapped postcard, height chart
along the door frame, coupon clipped
out for your coffee, your name in script,
almost unrecognizable, on a wedding
invitation. Also art: sofa you’re dreading
replacing, jar of screws and bolts that go
to something, a futon of five years ago,
a flimsy shelf. The blinds you break
a little every day, the teeth you take
more seriously now that some are stained,
the empty phone jacks, the well-maintained
counter with its few pasta sauce spots,
the darkened underside of pans and pots.