If everything in life were stackable

If everything in life were stackable (a sonnet)

by Kelp

If everything in life were stackable,
Like storage containers, like tupperware.
If it all could fit neatly together
Its contents preserved, so fresh and vital.
Instead the leftovers, the gravy that
Turns to gel in the fridge, the rice that seems
To harden into bits of stone, or skeins
Of velvet, greenish and white: a stink that
Offends, a stink that will not bend or fade
Or dissipate. The moon shines its shadow
On blocks stacked too high, about to topple,
On broken pyrex, and on beds unmade.
O, nothing in life can be preserved or contained.
Our varnished moon is fragmented and stained.