Ode to a little matchbox on my windowsill

Faded yellow yearning for a shaded sitting spot

Yes you do seem a bit worse for wear

Striking surface laid almost entirely bare

Yellow streaks appearing where they ought not

In spite of our infrequent engagement over the past few months

I would have you look no other way

This, unfortunately, I would not expect a phillumenist to say

Collectors can be right cunts

Your blue innards house still a few pieces of wood

But for an irritating past self that was in town

There seem to be more charred black than useable brown

Most of these won’t do me any good

Sadly the sun is not the only one to have given you a scorch

In my bored online class hours I have upon your exterior drawn

A racist lion – Hitler and African cat spawn

Good thing I have a torch