I could be tiny; microscopic, a dust locket,

a jungle creature past your shoes,

or a red blood cell.

 

I could be a bench press on a guitar string,

an intake of breath, teeth marks,

her wedding ring,

 

broken glass by the canal,

rusty coin or spinning top,

the chewed bone left by the dog -

 

I could be all these things.

The eyeleash you brush from her cheek,

that could be me.

 

or maybe a fingerprint or a clumsy smudge

of lipstick on a coffee mug.

And that CD that nobody claimed.

 

I could take the shape

of your pillow in the morning,

and the digital clock past midnight.

 

I could be a bank statement, a bill payment,

a cheque stub

from a forgotton engagement.

 

I could be small, so small you may not see

until after the small dotted line

has met with big decision.