Lost.

You
are
sparkling...
gleaming
collecting
dirt, in the farthest corner
near the dustiest edges
of the most
forgotten
place.
I knew I'd find you
so I let you go, to
where?
Ah, yes, I know--that pocket
in that bag;
the space between the stove and the counter;
the tiny zipper part
of my purse, the spot
that exists solely for that moment
when you find it, that it you thought
you'd never
find
again...
the nightstand, beneath the nightstand, behind
the couch,
hovering inside
the bubble in the carpet--
you're there,
but as soon as I look,
try to measure you with my gaze
the uncertainty of your place, shifts space and
you're gone...
to my sock drawer, the dryer lint catcher, that box
inside the box,
inside the box in my head,
under the bed! In the covers...
hidden inside/under
just above/just below
beside
myself, I search and find
a line
of shimmering
dust.