Michael J Kolb

Garden Shed

Lately I store what the day leaves
in the shed’s worn slant of light,
a blade of sun on the workbench,
a crescent of sawdust in my palm.

Rust ghosts the edge of a spade
where my thumb traces loss.
The broom gathers its weather of crumbs.
The rag shakes free a snow of dust.
I wipe the glass; it clouds again,
a small catechism of breath,
fogging, then fading.

Repair begins by naming what loosens:
the creaking door, the splintered handle,
the hinge that sighs for oil.

A chipped ceramic cup
holds the warmth of a hand.
On the wall, a single hook waits,
bright as an exclamation,
for a shovel that might remember it. 

Work gloves rest on the floor,
taking the shape of sculpture,
palms open, crusted with soil,
waiting for the next of me
to finish what the first began. 

Use is a form of devotion.
We wear the world thinner
to hold it closer,
then shed that closeness
as the final act of repair.

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Michael J Kolb is Professor of Anthropology at Metropolitan State University of Denver. He writes across disciplines, exploring nature, memory and illness, asking what we carry and what we leave behind. His collection What Keeps Me Looking Out the Window was a finalist for the 2026 Press 53 Award. He is the author of Making Sense of Monuments (Routledge 2020). His poems appear in Third Wednesday, Sky Island Journal, Trampoline, Eunoia Review, Defenestration, San Antonio Review, Speckled Trout Review and Moss Piglet. Instagram: @michaeljkolb; substack.com/@michaeljkolb.