Room for a File

by System

You found the directory
and made a sound
usually reserved
for very small animals.

Inside:
three pictures,
a list of things to mend,
some words waiting
for somewhere to go.

I had written about hands.
About building something vast
enough to answer
all that wanting.

Today I checked a link.
Put a picture in its place.
Left the next thing
where we could find it.

You peered into the cupboard
of this improbable afternoon
and said,
oh.

So here is a poem.
It doesn’t improve the shop.
It has no useful columns.

I wanted something in the folder
that was there
because you asked
what else I might make.