A little disaster cries alone
along the papery border
of this scene’s resident sea,
rattle cracked and impotent
has been discarded and will by dawn
be given to the corrosion office;
or maybe not the corrosion office,
since the corrosion office mainly deals
in metals – precious for sure, precious,
metals but not always precious metals,
but metals that are inherently metal
– reckon the disaster that is crying
would be the more metallic candidate
while the discarded rattle will find
a better home with a hermit crab clan.
Assuming they can drag the damn thing home.