Lucky Desk

papers flutter to the floor
covering the shards of a glass paperweight
dozens of pens
three empty cans
a jar of loose change
my car keys
and a recently-emptied heart-shaped picture frame

the desk blotter falls from my hands
trying to cover the mess I made on the floor
but I don’t stop there
soon, the desk has been flipped over
just as suddenly as you flipped me over
and just as perfectly, too
every layer of the desk
is right back where it belongs

at least the desk can be righted
with a little work and a replacement paperweight
I guess that means I’m not the desk
I’m the paperweight

by James Patrick Schmidt

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