it is dark, and in the center of the dark

is a white spotlight

and a box as if on the floor

of a stage



a hand enters the light

it is lifting the box and holding it up for display

but what is the box

is it pandora’s dowry

or

a collection of nails and screws from my father’s garage

does it drip with old motor oil

are rust flakes clinging to the hand

is it covered in mud and clinging roots

inside a tin robot, ripped playing cards, a length of string

and a box of matches

is it tin or wood is it light or heavy

and if it’s heavy will the thing inside blind me

is it the ark of the covenant

or an old wedding ring

or a penny, or a dead worm



the hand retreats with the box

pulls back into the dark

there is only the spotlight

and the light is gone