My Pens Poem by Sheila Knowles

My pen collection is alive
each member a witness
to some specific moment
of sub-conscious kleptomania

they live inside an Ikea desk tidy
manufactured from the well-treated wood
of recycled trees

or did I read the label wrong

they share their space
with wall pins
paper clips and empty tissue packs
and a proud array of fast food menus

some stand alert
some fall against the walls
and others hide their heads from view
lost at the bottom of the box
with the pencil stubs
and the ink blots
and the dust

and I'm sure they have something to teach me
about myself
or life
or the things I'm yet to discover about myself
or the things
I just can't remember