desktop
is a word
slammed shut
open it
and you will find
a dusty leather map
fingerprint dappled
teardrop splattered
monocle-ringed by me
in my cups
and starred with sequins
from a Vegas costume
I should sew
a burnished timber rim
and a fine brass plaque
seminary-screwed
manilla folders with
pillow slip corners
the scalpel Leonardo
sketched on flesh
point secured
in a blob of putty
a kimono sleeve
of white petals
under a stick crammed
jam jar
a lamp that pools
hot amber light
a soldering iron for
melting lead
pencil shavings from
Californian Redwoods
a soldier lying
face down
tiny cows, belted Galloways
a broken chair, dolls-house made
a cold golden crane
with scissor beak
oily pastel smears
mauve and green
Degas wiped his fingers there
a battery, all emerald crusted
and last
a lump of clay
a child
has pressed into
a lily pad
desk top
take out the space
and all this feels
like nothing
but a window.
This poem is part of a responsive collaborative sequence about digital metaphors written with Ruby Todd and Owen Bullock, emerging from the joint Deakin University/University of Canberra Write | Connect Symposium 2014.