Incense

The grayish feather floating

From the amber stick

Through an unorganized,

Unvaccumed, undusted,

Cluttered, closed-in,

Air-tight room competes

With Morissette and

Other negative thoughts.

The white bin with

Various envelopes, signifying

My popularity one time

Out of the month.

It's payed more attention to

Than that lap-top

Filled with love and life,

Fears and pain, hopes and dreams

Of a prosperious future of

Published books and a

New job attached to that diploma.

I use it as a paperweight now.

I pulled its plug a long time ago.

I replaced it with a heating pad,

Advil, deadlines, and meetings

Of the then temp job.

That paperweight sits there,

Lifeless, no beating heart.

I feel bad so I try to revive it--

Blow some life into it,

Give it a spark.

It's no use.

I must say goodbye to it.

I have laundry to do.