they indicated the job was over
when the probing barbs meant to communicate affection
penetrated the parts of us
still worthy of carve
into a decorative orb
or a wilting perennial
or a piece of the sky
that we never really looked at anymore
and the cold steel of the device
responsible for replenishing the boxes
that deserved no replenishment
and fostered diminishing joy
would provide a reflection of the wound
it dug from
which became more unfamiliar by the day
but it was something to look at
that wasn’t the sculptures
in their boxes
those barbs never could communicate
the affection they intended with the obscured shapes they molded
and the cardboard never bowed
so the job never ended
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