Gold Medal

I found your Olympic gold medal
while I was cleaning my childhood bedroom.
I almost vacuumed it up.

I can’t help but wonder how it got on my floor,
how you must have not noticed it missing from your empty apartment.

I wonder if during one of those fights we used to have
I slipped it in my pocket, thinking you never deserved it.

I laid the medal on my old desk
next to a trick dog coin bank.

The dog holds the coin in his mouth,
jumps through the hoop, and hides the coin in a brown barrel.

This childish desk is a circus.
I can see the levers and
your Olympic gold medal is fading in the sunlight.