The Board

There’s a rough sketch of an octopus
on the white board. They could tell by
a slight difference in blues that it was
drawn with two different markers.
By the odd folds above the tentacles
They figured one of them was probably
permanent, thus setting a trap for whoever
took it upon themselves to do the erasing.
To make marks is to extend the explosion
like extra canisters of lighter fluid at the
center of a burn.
All you get out here is what you earn
and what else could you expect to reach
from out of nowhere.
The lights turn on in time with the three
switches by the door, and the moment had
finally come to clear the board.

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