Cleaning my desk

the moon is overhead, blurry as if I forgot my glasses
clouds scattering moonlight, there is no clarity
on my desk either with a stack of Swiss francs,
Migraine tablets
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my phone is low on batteries.
Pencils with broken lead,
Vaseline intensive care,
I loved the smell of the Jergens my mother wore.
A metal cylinder that belongs to something,
a missing credit card I still can't find.
The moon keeps moving across the sky
as the bills go into the recycle bin, flowers
long past their prime head downstairs
to the compost, a stack of magazines accumulates
on the floor.
Chase.com is down so that bill can't be paid,
the rest are, I see the surface now of the
scarred wooden table, I place a lone penny in
the middle of my desk,
for luck.