My laptop rests on its cooling plate
a mouse attached, on a rare mouse pad
one of only twenty that exist.
A box, filled with CDs and DVDs, and a
floppy disk drive on top, fully functional, and still used.
A cup of pencils, and pens, a paintbrush, a pair of scissors,
two wooden rods, an American flag, and a comb
with one tooth missing despite having never been used.
A digital clock, an almost empty bottle of glue, and post-it notes,
some in their dispenser, others posted around,
my incomprehensible notes scrawled on them
(the cords are ax B).
A green Christmas ornament, two cotton balls,
an old tin can, its label removed,
with the words “safety pins” haphazardly taped on,
less than a quarter filled.
An empty stapler rests under a data cable.
The periodic table and a date stamp,
that ends in 2000, and thus, is useless.
A lamp, a pencil sharpener, three dessert dishes, filled with
clips and rubber bands. A framed set of coins,
on the wall behind, as is a hook with a key,
my flash drive, and France hanging from it.
An index card, with somebody’s e-mail written on it;
I’ve long forgotten whose.
Black metal shelves, packed with random papers,
return address stickers, and a box from a video game,
over ten years old, the instruction manual resting beside it.
A blue glass bird, with its beak slightly worn,
and the name of its sculptor signed on the underside.
A brown notebook, its cover on in reverse,
a small man, doing pull-ups on a bar on the shelf
a yellow notepad, and notes,
a bucket of beads, mostly yellow and brown
with a skunk where its lid should be.
A cardboard tube, covered in aluminum foil,
standing upright, next to a box of blank paper.
And in front of it all, my chair,
covered in smooth, navy blue fabric,
where I sit to relax, do my work, or simply live.
Author’s Notes (may contain spoilers):
So this is my first poem published here: “My Desk”. The first draft was written during my college creative writing class, where there was a practice assignment to write a list poem. My first thought was to do a list of things on my desk at home. I thought the combination of the mundane and more bizzare items would make for an interesting poem, and I thought it turned out quite well. However, my desk has since been reorganized when I got my new laptop, so many of these items are no longer there. On the other hand, there are some other new items which I think might have fit well in the poem: a broken brown crayon, a stack of blank DVDs, a papercraft Zoroark, a swiss army knife, and much more.
The end of the poem is meant to summarize the purpose of all these items: they are the contents of my desk, which is where I sit when I’m writing, playing a game on my computer, or these days, it’s quite simply where I sit when I have nowhere better to be, and am not pacing the room waiting for inspiration. As for the significance of the individual items, well, I’m not really sure…