Knocking the insulating tape
off the table onto the floor, I swore

knowing I’d have to bend this back
and these knees to retrieve,

but when it returned rolling
I laughed out loud thinking this is

a sign of good things to come today,
yet it was now late afternoon and

soon would be dark, the driveway gate
was already closed to more journeys,

and night’s routines – comfortable
enough – were setting their black store.

So crouching slowly down I slammed it
under that table again, swearing at the

overuse and useless hope of metaphor.