In My Apartment

Rid of the charm of night,
the color of mud. Matte thing

with shine of grease. Wood- 

grain laminate in gray, gaping

at the baseboards, starting
to rot. Mismatched vinyl wood- 

look counter like a plane tree’s 

soft bark chipped and peeling.

I remember finding
flotsam on the beach
that blurred the borders
of plastic and organic–
wood or bone, metal,
shell or fish scale, child’s toy 

beaten to detritus or blue crab 

husk: where sea kelps looked 

like bouncy balls and plastic 

like a corpse.